


I'll Hit the Lights and You Lock the Doors

by enigma731



Category: The Invisible Library - Genevieve Cogman
Genre: Developing Relationship, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Established Relationship, F/M, Missing Scene
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-11-10
Updated: 2021-03-03
Packaged: 2021-03-09 00:55:19
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 7
Words: 38,496
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27486121
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/enigma731/pseuds/enigma731
Summary: There was still a part of Irene that wanted to apologize, that wanted to point out all of the ways she had hurt and failed him over the past few days alone. There was still a part of her that wanted to ask him if he was certain that he wanted to be with her despite everything. There was still a part of her that was insisting on detailing all of the ways she might lose him someday, all the ways that allowing herself to have this now could end up being horrifically painful.She was going to pitch that part of herself into the sewers and then leave it in this alternate for good measure.Or: The relationship development between The Mortal Word and The Secret Chapter.
Relationships: Irene/Kai (The Invisible Library)
Comments: 58
Kudos: 21





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Additional warning: Brief canon-compliant mention of suicidal thoughts (basically just a reference to what's already in the books)

Irene woke with the kind of sick disorientation that only followed particularly large deluges of adrenaline or significant injuries. Or both.

The pounding in her head and the ache in her throat told her it was definitely both. She swallowed experimentally and the taste of old blood brought the past twenty-four hours swimming back into focus: the Countess, Ao Ji, the signing of the treaty. The adrenaline she’d been running on had evaporated shortly after they’d gotten rooms in a hotel whose only distinguishing feature at the moment was its comparative lack of destruction. The memory got hazy after that and she realized that she must have fallen asleep -- or possibly lost consciousness entirely.

With a fresh start of fear, it dawned on her that she was alone in this room. Vale would have gotten his own room, that only made sense but Kai --

For a moment it felt as though her heart was trying to hammer its way out through her ears as her mind raced. Had he changed his mind about the embassy position? Decided that he couldn’t forgive her for the past few days after all? Had she suffered a head injury and managed to hallucinate getting something resembling a happy ending entirely?

Well, probably not that last, as evidenced by the fact that she was in a hotel and not frozen under several tons of snow.

That realization quelled the panic enough for her to take in the rest of the room. Kai’s clothes were folded in a pile on one of the chairs at the far end and she could hear the sound of the shower running now that she was paying attention. So, that bit of panic had been a rather silly waste. Most likely. 

She should go back to sleep, she knew. The curtains were drawn but she could still tell by a glance at the light coming in around them that it was no later than mid-morning. Which meant she’d gotten no more than a few hours of sleep when really her body was demanding about a week’s worth. She _should_ go back to sleep, only now she was awake enough for her brain to start working, making that a challenge. 

This felt wrong. It wasn’t just that she’d missed the fact that Kai was in the bathroom -- it was the fact that he was there at all. He ought to be in bed with her, she couldn’t help thinking, both because of his propensity for hovering whenever she was injured and because he’d needed the rest just as badly. But instead he was in there with the water running and the only explanations she was currently capable of coming up with were that he was avoiding her or that he was getting ready to leave.

Sighing, she rolled over and tried to let the pain from any number of bruises drown out those unhelpful thoughts. Unfortunately the thoughts simply joined together in chorus with the bruises, the shower now seeming an obnoxiously loud accompaniment. Attempting sleep was pointless, at least for the moment. If something was wrong, she might as well go face it rather than lying here with its ghosts taking up residence in her mind.

She kicked the bed clothes aside rather harder than necessary as she sat up. The movement made the room spin for a moment but she didn’t feel like passing out altogether, so that was a definite improvement. Also, there was a glass of water and several aspirin laid out on the bedside table. 

She swallowed the pills and stood up in the same motion -- which admittedly was not the most intelligent approach. But this wasn’t about taking things easily or slowly. It was about ripping off the bandage, for lack of a more original metaphor.

Her muscles were definitely not _happy_ about her current upright status and neither was her head, but she wasn’t about to collapse. It was enough progress to get her across the room, in fact, with only a single pause to steady herself against the furniture. 

She paused a second time at the bathroom door, steeling herself. A part of her wanted to insist that this was some sort of a violation despite the fact that they were _well_ past the point of seeing one another unclothed. Shoving that thought down, she opened the door and stepped inside. That it hadn’t been locked was further justification.

Under normal circumstances, Kai would have noticed her presence immediately, would probably have come out of the shower and insisted on helping her. But these weren’t normal circumstances -- and really, had they had _any_ of those since they’d been sent after Evariste? For a moment that thought made her feel absolutely paralyzed with exhaustion, but Irene was stubborn and refused to let it win.

Taking a few steps closer, she realized that although Kai had drawn the curtain, he’d left a gap that was plenty large enough to see through. He had his back to her under the spray, but there was still something intensely intimate about seeing him like this. There was pain in the hunch of his shoulders and in the ghostly scale pattern that showed over every inch of his skin. She’d seen it before, of course, but never quite like this. And the water, she realized belatedly, was not falling normally but instead seeming to hang in the air around him for an unnatural few seconds before pelting downward. It was like a storm in a microcosm and she knew it had to signify strong emotions. If only there weren’t so many possible ones to choose from.

“Kai,” she said carefully, because it wasn’t as if she was capable of just backing out now and pretending this was a normal occurrence. For all she knew it _was,_ but…

He turned with controlled speed, the water suddenly succumbing to typical gravity again and the scale pattern vanishing. “You’re awake. Are you --”

“I’m fine.” She held up a hand to stop him and then abruptly realized she had no idea what else to say. There were so many things that she _needed_ to ask him but for once in her life, no words at all.

“Irene,” he said finally, breaking the silence. There was a hollow, haunted look in his eyes. “Join me?”

Her internal paranoia had gotten a healthy dose of fodder over the past few days and it tried to assert that his invitation might be a trap, might be too good to be true. But no. That wasn’t fair to Kai, who’d done absolutely nothing to earn her mistrust. The fact that _she_ felt she deserved to be punished was not a good reason to expect him to do it. She nodded and went about undressing. She didn’t quite remember how or when it had happened, but she was already down to just her undergarments so it wasn’t very arduous. She mentally thanked whomever -- though probably Kai -- had gotten her out of the corset.

He pushed the curtain aside a bit and held out both hands to help her over the side of the tub. He was clearly ready to catch her if necessary, but the aspirin was starting to work and her legs were steady. The same could not be said of her heart, which was pounding wildly in both her chest and her temples.

Standing closer, she could see that Kai still had his own share of cuts and bruises from the fight as well as uncharacteristic dark shadows under his eyes. The muscles of his jaw were set so tightly that it looked painful.

“Are you all right?” she asked, well aware that it was both a stupid question and one she’d just failed to answer honestly. How could _he_ possibly be all right at the moment?

“Yes,” he said, then sighed. “No.”

“Do you -- want to talk about it?” she offered, for lack of anything better. What sort of condolences _did_ one offer to a dragon after a familial homicide attempt? She had the dreadful suspicion that the answer was _none_. 

“No,” he said predictably. There was a long pause during which the water beat down around them while neither made any attempt to actually shower. 

Guilt was climbing up the back of her throat like bile along with the certainty that she’d ruined things between them forever and the need to do _something_ about it.

“I’m sorry, Kai,” she said finally, because it was the only thing that she could offer. “I’m so sorry that I got you --”

“I thought I told you to stop that,” he interrupted with surprising force, eyes glinting red for the briefest moment in the dim light of the bathroom. “Stop apologizing.”

“You did,” she allowed. “But it’s still how I feel. You got hurt because I brought you here. Your family --”

“Irene,” he interrupted again, sharply. He brought one hand up to cup her jaw, touch impossibly gentle despite the emotion in every other line of his body. “Irene, you were _right._ You saved the treaty. My father’s honor. My _life_.” His voice broke painfully on that last and it all fell together for her.

She was being a self-absorbed fool, blinded by her own guilt. Kai was not upset at her but just plain _upset_ , as he had every right to be. And here she was being anything but comforting.

“Kai,” she breathed, having to consciously suppress the urge to apologize yet again, this time for her most recent apology. Instead she gently caught the hand that was still against her face, pulled him closer and hugged him as tightly as she dared.

He made a soft sound in the back of his throat, arms wrapping around her shoulders as he leaned against her, composure crumbling. His hair was loose and she combed the fingers of one hand through it, acutely aware that his whole body was shaking, that she could feel the warmth of tears not fully eclipsed by the shower as he buried his face in her neck. She ran her other hand over his back in large, slow circles. The last time she’d seen him like this was in Venice, she thought, and then dismissed the idea. She knew he’d referred to his kidnapping as his weakest moment, but this was a different level of hurt entirely.

Then again, it was also a whole different level of their relationship. She hadn’t been able to give him the sort of comfort she’d truly wanted to in Venice or in the weeks after, when she’d had to watch him struggle with the aftermath, had to confine herself to the role of mentor. She had none of those constraints now, which was a good thing because she was fairly certain she would have torched them all in a heartbeat. Reminding herself that she had every right now, she ducked her head and pressed a kiss to his temple. He was still holding onto her like his life depended on it...and given the past twenty-four hours, maybe it actually did. Irene could tell that he was trying to slow his breathing, to control himself like he always did, but without any sort of success.

“It’s all right,” she murmured, fully aware that it wasn’t. Still, what else was she supposed to say? He didn’t want her to apologize any more, and _’it’s a shame that your own family tried to use you as a political sacrifice’_ certainly wouldn’t suffice. So perhaps all she could do was offer platitudes and allow him to point out the inadequacies.

“No, it isn’t,” he said against her neck, his voice rough and the words predictable. Or at least they were to begin with. “No part of this is all right. I shouldn’t -- I am being ungrateful.” But he didn’t make any move to pull away. 

“What?” she asked, her tone harsher than she’d actually intended. For a moment it felt as though he must have lost his mind, or as if she had. But the horror of what he was saying had already begun to sink in by the time he spoke again. 

“My father has given me an honorable task,” he said, almost the same words as before but far less convincing now. He took a deep shuddering breath and straightened a bit so that she could see his face, the devastation written there making her heart ache. “That should be all that matters.”

“Your uncle tried to have you killed!” Irene exclaimed, aware that it was probably the wrong thing to say and unable to swallow the words down any longer. “And then he tried to kill you himself.”

Kai flinched and she felt it everywhere their bodies were still pressed together. He still didn’t let go of her, though. “His efforts to destroy the treaty were dishonorable because they went against the wishes of his brothers. What he did to me was his right.”

“ _Kai,_ ” she insisted, feeling sick. “That’s _awful_.”

He swallowed visibly, the muscles in his throat working for a while before he was able to manage words. “I -- should not see it as such. But I am having a very difficult time.” 

It was the understatement of the century, Irene thought, and that was saying something for her. “Kai. As if anyone could blame you.”

“If _any_ other dragon heard me saying this, saw me like this…” He trailed off, total helplessness in his eyes.

“Well then it’s a very good thing I am not a dragon,” Irene said fiercely, and hugged him closer again.

He made a sound that was half a bitter laugh and half a sob, dropping his head back to her shoulder. “Gods, Irene, what would I do without you?”

“Be hopelessly lost, clearly,” she said archly, though her throat was too tight for it to quite be convincing. 

“I would,” he whispered, completely earnest. “I really would.”

There was still a part of her that wanted to apologize, that wanted to point out all of the ways she had hurt and failed him over the past few days alone. There was still a part of her that wanted to ask him if he was certain that he wanted to be with her despite everything. There was still a part of her that was insisting on detailing all of the ways she might lose him someday, all the ways that allowing herself to have this now could end up being horrifically painful. She was going to pitch that part of herself into the sewers and then leave it in this alternate for good measure.

Kai was quiet for a while, finally succeeding at getting his breathing under control. Irene continued rubbing his back in silence, content to stand there with him under the water. Or at least she was content to stand there until the hot water began to run out. It happened slowly, a shift subtle enough that she didn’t actually realize until she’d begun to shiver. At first that too had seemed like it was just exhaustion reasserting itself, and she tried to shove the sensation down. When she found herself unable to suppress a teeth-chattering shudder, Kai raised his head to look at her and bit back a curse.

“Let’s get out,” he said hastily, shifting his hands up to her shoulders and then running them up and down her arms like he might be able to warm her whole body that way. Actually, it was working better than it had any right to. “The last thing you need right now is to be getting cold.”

“Really, I’m fine,” she tried to insist, but the way her jaw shook with the chills rather ruined that effect. And she couldn’t deny that the sensation was already bringing back experiences she could have happily died without ever revisiting. 

“Those two things aren’t mutually exclusive,” said Kai, shutting off the water. He looked better, she noticed. Maybe because he was distracted by taking care of her or maybe because simply acknowledging the validity of his emotions had meant something.

“They are if I say they are,” she tried, aware that she was babbling in a way that bordered on petulant. It was the way her mind started working when she was especially injured or otherwise in trouble.

“Irene.” Kai wound a towel around his waist before grabbing another off the rack and wrapping it around her. He didn’t give her the chance to try to step out of the tub, picking her up instead. “You are the most intelligent person I know, but that is nonsense.”

He carried her out into the main room and set her gently on the edge of the bed before going about the task of drying himself.

“You’re going to drip on the bed,” Irene pointed out. Then she looked down at herself. “I’m already getting it wet.”

Kai ran the towel through his hair a couple more times, then looked back and forth between them. He sighed. “Fine.” It was clear that he was talking to the universe and not to her in particular. 

Throwing the towel onto the floor, he set his jaw and made a gesture in the air that wasn’t quiet like the martial arts she routinely saw him use in the field. Responding to his will, the water leapt off both of them and buried itself in the towel he’d indicated.

“I don’t think I’ll ever stop being jealous of that,” said Irene as she watched him scoop the sodden towel off the floor and toss it clear across into the bathroom. She knew that his powers extracted their own price, though, and it was clear that he was running on very little stamina now. He didn’t quite sway on his feet but she could see the change in his posture.

“What do you need?” he asked, still completely focused on her. “We’ve got most of our luggage, Bradamant brought it over a couple of hours ago.”

Irene blinked, suppressing a wave of anxiety at the thought of someone finding them here together. It was well past the time to worry about that, she reminded herself. They’d gotten as close to approval as was ever likely to happen. And besides that, it wasn’t as if Bradamant in particular had been unaware to begin with. She swallowed down the nerves. “Nothing. Just -- come over here.”

For a moment he looked like he was going to hesitate, possibly to continue offering her every potential form of comfort he could find in this small room. But then he seemed to decide against it, moving back to stand in front of her at the edge of the bed. He looked impossibly vulnerable again, undressed and with the light coming in from around the inefficient curtains throwing the lines of his body into sharp relief. Irene reached out and took both of his hands, pulling him closer as she nodded to the bed beside her. He returned her nod, then waited for her to lie back before taking her discarded towel, laying it on the nightstand and joining her. 

He moved unnaturally slowly as he wrapped an arm around her, telegraphing every bit before actually touching her, and she could feel the tension in his body when he finally did settle against her. It felt wrong, almost cold in its own way, and Irene had to swallow down a pang of insecurity. Things had always been easy between them, almost too comfortable -- or at least, it had felt like they would be if she’d allowed herself that luxury. But right now -- 

Right now he was acting like _he_ expected rejection at any moment. That realization hit her like -- well, she didn’t have the energy to come up with an adequate simile at the moment. But it was heavy and it hurt. She certainly couldn’t blame him after the past few days he’d had...Or after the way she’d been keeping a safe emotional distance expecting him to be ordered away at any moment. They would have to talk about it eventually, she thought, and wrinkled her nose. But not right now. 

For now, she turned her head over one shoulder and kissed him, hoping it would be reassurance enough. He responded immediately, sighing into it and pulling her closer, like the doubt she’d sensed had just been her imagination. 

“Will you please get some sleep?” she asked when she broke away for air. 

His face was in shadow now, but she could practically _hear_ him raising an eyebrow. “After that?” He let it hang in the air for a few breaths before speaking again. “Yes, madam.”

* * *

When she woke again -- really, she was doing entirely too much waking for such a short period of time -- the shadows had gotten longer and the daylight most definitely suggested midday. She didn’t have the same sense of dread as before, or the same headache though her throat remained profoundly unhappy. That was probably going to last for several irritating days at least. 

Kai still had his arm around her, the fingers of one hand laced through hers. That realization brought a swell of emotion with it -- She was pleased, of course, but it came with the familiar sense of danger at the idea of allowing herself to become too attached to anyone in any way. 

Moving slowly so as not to disturb him, Irene craned her neck over her shoulder again -- and met his eyes, already open and filled with a mix of concern and disapproval. 

“Why are you awake?” It was too gentle to be a demand, but there was definite incredulity in his tone. 

Irene blinked, swallowing down the impulse to snap at him. That wouldn’t help anything. “I’m fairly certain that’s my line, seeing as how you were awake first.”

He shrugged unconvincingly. “I don’t need as much sleep as you do.”

“Kai.” She sighed and reluctantly pulled her hand away from his. She was going to end up with a headache if she had this entire argument looking at him over her shoulder. Plus, it put her in a decidedly less convincing position to argue her point. He sat up a bit as she turned over to face him, keeping his arm around her shoulders so that she could see his face without having to support herself. “Thank you. But don’t think you’re going to distract me from the fact that you need rest. Did you get _any_ sleep?”

“Enough,” he said stiffly, then relented. “As much as I could.” His gaze flickered away from hers long enough to tell her that it was honest and that he was not proud of it.

“That’s been a problem for you for a while, hasn’t it,” she offered, softening. It wasn’t really a question; they both knew it was true. He’d never quite gotten back to resting easily after Venice, and she could only imagine how much worse it would be now. Although he’d seemed peaceful enough during the night he’d spent in her hotel room. 

He exhaled heavily, not quite a sigh. “I’ll manage.” It wasn’t a deflection this time, just tired honesty. 

Irene found his hand again and squeezed it gently. “How can I help?” He might not be her student anymore, and she might not be strictly responsible for him in a professional sense. But she still cared for him and that meant _taking_ care of him when needed, didn’t it?  
His breath caught audibly and his eyes were filled with that desperate longing that always seemed to be there just beneath the surface. For the briefest instant, she thought she saw a hint of fire in them before he swallowed all of it back down and shook his head. “I don’t know.” 

That was a lie and they both knew it, but it wasn’t one she was ready to challenge. 

Then another, more unpleasant thought occurred to her and she realized that she couldn’t let it go unspoken. “Kai.” She took a moment to steady her breathing and choose careful words. “Last night -- You were ready to die. Do you still feel that way?”

He stiffened at that -- it wasn’t quite a flinch, more long-lasting than that -- but didn’t pull away. “Are you asking me if I’m suicidal?”

She held his gaze and nodded. “Yes. You’ve told me that there are circumstances under which dragons view suicide as the least painful alternative.”

A muscle jumped in his jaw, his entire body taut now. “And if I were in one of those situations, would you try to stop me?”

“Are you?” Irene pressed. Her tone was even but inwardly she was fighting down an unexpected wave of panic. She’d hoped the answer to this would be easier, though if she’d been sure, she wouldn’t have needed to ask in the first place. 

Scale patterns bloomed over his cheekbones, more long-lasting than they often were, betraying any sense of confident calm he might be trying to project. He took a deep, trembling breath in, an action she now recognized as his finding the strength for painful honesty. “Not -- now.”

“But last night?” It was the end of the thought more than it was a prompt.

“Yes,” he whispered, barely audible. He looked laid bare in the most profound way possible, not a single defense left in that moment. “Irene -- he nearly _killed_ you, and there wasn’t a thing I could do.”

It was utterly inappropriate but she couldn’t control the bitter, shocked laugh that tore itself from her throat. It wasn’t that she doubted him, it was just that it felt _absurd_ for her to matter that much to anyone. 

“I mean it!” This time he did pull away, sitting up so that he could face her directly, eyes blazing. “I _mean it_ , Irene. I value my family’s honor and I understand the importance of the treaty. But I swore to protect you and _that_ is the most important thing to me. If you don’t want to -- work with me or _be_ with me, I will find a way to understand. But I _will not_ lose you to my own failings.”

She immediately wanted to protest, wanted to tell him that none of this was his fault. That he was a victim as much as -- or perhaps more than -- anyone else. That she had made the decision to put herself in danger at multiple points during the conference, just as she had on countless missions before. She wanted to tell him that she _did_ want to be with him in every sense of the phrase, but ironically she’d never been good with those particular sorts of words. She did, after all, prefer detective fiction over romance.

But she didn’t need words in that moment. Contrary to every fiber of her professional being, she had to acknowledge that sometimes actions were more powerful.

Irene pulled herself up so that she was kneeling on the bed in front of him, then leaned in and kissed him fiercely. It wasn’t the most graceful movement, her balance still lacking, but he caught her like he always did, steadying her as he returned the kiss. 

“Irene?” he managed when they broke apart for air. There were a multitude of questions unspoken in the two syllables of her name, but she was still well beyond words. 

She kissed him again and pressed him back against the pillows, shifting to straddle his hips before looking down into his face again. It was filled with that desperate sort of hope that made her heart clench, that suggested she could be his personal salvation. He was wrong about that, of course, but she didn’t doubt that he believed it. 

“We’re both here,” she pointed out. “We’re both alive.” It was exactly the sort of cliche that she _hated_ to find in novels, but...well, cliches were cliches because they were often true.

Irene watched the shift in his expression from exhausted grief to that almost sly seductiveness he seemed to find so easily.

“We are,” he said slowly and stretched under her, releasing some of the tension in his muscles. She had no idea whether it was genuine, but it was certainly convincing. He reached up and brushed the pad of his thumb along her lower lip, making her shiver pleasantly. “Do you think we have some lost time to make up for?”

“Probably,” she agreed easily. After all, they would have had far more than one night together by now if not for...well, all of the recent complications. She wasn’t going to look for any reason deeper than that. 

He shifted his hand to cup her cheek, serious again as he met her eyes. “I want you, Irene. But I need you to tell me honestly that it won’t hurt you.”

 _’Well that depends entirely on what type of hurt you mean,’_ said the part of her that was still insisting she would eventually lose him. But that wasn’t what he meant and it wasn’t what either of them needed to hear right now. “Well, it might not help me rest my voice, depending.” She arched an eyebrow. “But other than that…”

“Tell me,” he repeated, firm but not demanding.

“You won’t hurt me,” she promised, then immediately realized that he was going to roll her over, put himself on top. He’d taken charge last time too, and while she’d certainly enjoyed it, it wasn’t what she wanted now. She’d spent far too much of the past few days not being able to assert her will the way she’d wanted, and besides, she was supposed to be taking care of him. “Especially because you’ll be staying right where you are.”

He raised both eyebrows at that, interest definitely piqued. “Oh, I will?”

“That wasn’t a challenge,” said Irene, lest he get any ideas. 

He made an appreciative sound in the back of his throat. “I _do_ like it when you take charge.”

“Sometimes you do,” said Irene, thinking that she could bring up any number of times he’d tried to protest her plans. Still, he _did_ always come through in support of her. Even last night. 

“In this particular context,” said Kai, enunciating each word even more precisely than usual, “I _definitely_ do.” He let his hand fall from her face, skimming his fingers down the line of her shoulder and arm. He might be willing to stay where he was and let her take charge, but it was abundantly clear that he was not going to just lie there inertly. 

All at once it felt absurd to be moving so slowly, to be so hesitant. Somehow they’d already managed to be alone and undressed and in bed together for several hours without doing anything particularly unchaste. Which really spoke to just _how_ horrific the past twenty-four hours had been, but she was resolutely _not_ going to think about that for the moment. 

Their first time -- and it occurred to Irene that up until this very moment she had been prepared to think of it as their _only_ time -- had been a study in contradictions. It had been simultaneously frightening and reassuring, satisfying and entirely not. It had felt like such a long time coming, and yet they’d both been holding back, shielding themselves emotionally. Or at least she had. She certainly hoped that Kai had been as well or she was going to feel even guiltier than she already did about the past few days he’d had.

This time felt different entirely, though -- not rushed, not dangerous, just _right._ She’d thought Kai had been unusually open with her all day, worn down to the point of no choice, but it immediately became clear that that wasn’t true, that he’d still been restraining himself. The next time she kissed him, it was like touching a live wire, like his entire being radiated desperate _want_. It reminded her for one absurd moment of the way that the atmosphere changed around him when he was in his true form and in flight. It was like he had an effect on the very fabric of reality.

She broke away for air more quickly than she ordinarily would, her heart already hammering in her chest. Kai only gave her a moment before curling a hand into her hair and pulling her down again, his mouth hungry and hot against hers. His other hand roamed along her side before he diverted it to her breast, making her groan into the kiss. He rumbled a deep, pleased laugh and this time when she broke away enough to see his face, his scale pattern had appeared again over all of his skin, darker than she’d ever seen it before.

“I like this,” she told him, and traced a bit of it over his chest, gratified when he arched up into her touch.

“That’s fortunate,” he said a bit smugly, but it was undercut by the fact that he was getting breathless too. There wasn’t quite the same fire in his eyes as when he was in his full dragon form but it was _there_ and it was mesmerizing. 

“You’re fortunate to have me at all,” Irene retorted. She’d meant it as a tease, had kept her tone light, but she still felt the way it rocked through him.

He hooked a finger under her chin, though she would have met his gaze regardless. The reverence in his face was overwhelming. “I know. That’s the _point_.”

“Kai,” she whispered, a dozen truths and at least as many different emotions warring at the back of her throat, making her voice catch even more than it already had been. She wanted to tell him that _she_ felt like the lucky one, despite everything, for the turn her life had taken over the past year. She wanted to tell him that he deserved better from her and everyone else in his life, that he was extraordinary, that he was more than enough. She wanted to tell him how much she cared and how much that scared her. If only she could find the strength to quash all the fears that were keeping her silent.

“You don’t have to say anything,” he broke in at last. She searched his face for the disappointment she was absolutely certain she’d find there, but all that she saw was understanding. “I just -- are you ready?” He had a hand resting against her hip now, thumb gently stroking her skin. 

“Yes,” she managed, and that was entirely honest, at least. She wanted him like she never had anything in her life and she wanted him immediately. It felt as though she’d been freezing for an eternity and now his whole body was deliciously warm, his erection hot where it rested against her thigh.

She had intended to maintain some semblance of control by staying on top, but now she found herself following his lead as he rested both hands on her hips and helped her shift to be properly aligned. He was pleasantly warm inside of her too, that aura of need she’d sensed earlier shifting to something more primal. He rolled his head back on the pillows as she started to move, easily meeting her rhythm like he did everything else when partnering her. Running a hand up the line of her back, he found the sensitive skin around her Library brand. He’d done that before and knew it was something she considered particularly intimate, but now it was a bit raw, still healing from all the power it’d had to exert over the past day. Her nerve endings lit up and she cried out, all of her senses feeling even more heightened. Kai made a pleased sound at that and did it again, which might have annoyed her if it hadn’t felt so good. 

For a few minutes, she nearly managed not to think. Or at least, all of her thoughts were caught up in the pleasure of this, of allowing herself to indulge in something they’d both wanted so much. She allowed herself to be lost in it, to trust it, to abandon all caution. It almost felt too soon when her orgasm arrived, both the end of an escape and an escape in itself. She buried her face in his neck and surrendered to it fully, dimly aware that he was just moments behind her in his own climax and that her gasping breaths sounded suspiciously like sobs. 

Kai pulled her down flat against the length of his body, wrapping his arms around her tightly and holding on. They were both shaking, she realized on some level, clinging to one another like...well, they _had_ narrowly escaped death several times recently and hadn’t acted like _this_. Maybe that was a shame. 

After a while, she found that her breathing was beginning to slow, that her throat was back to aching with normal fatigue rather than strangling emotions. Perhaps sensing the shift, Kai rolled over so that they were both on their sides and tucked her hair behind her ear before smiling at her. He most definitely looked self-satisfied again and she couldn’t say that she blamed him. 

He was breathing hard, both scale pattern and more human flush warring on the skin of his cheeks. Irene brought her hand up to touch it gently, surprised again by the profound heat of him, though it wasn’t like she couldn’t feel it everywhere else their bodies were still pressed together. 

“If I had taken your offer that first time you made it,” she said curiously, “how did you plan to keep me from realizing what you are? Or was the whole point for me to realize?”

He shook his head. “No, it wasn’t the point. And you wouldn’t have gotten this view.”

She arched an eyebrow. “How’s that? I thought it came with -- strong feelings. Am I wrong about that?”

Kai caught the hand that was still hovering near his cheek and pulled it to his lips, kissing the backs of her knuckles. “Not entirely wrong. But it’s -- Well, I am _very_ good at controlling it when I want to be. You get to see it because I don’t mind when you do.”

“Oh,” Irene breathed, oddly touched by that and again uncharacteristically at a loss for words -- though if there was anyone who could put her in that predicament more often than average, it was Kai. She _knew_ that he trusted her, of course. But it still felt surprising, the idea that she could make anyone comfortable without intentionally manipulating them a foreign concept. She was accustomed to being underestimated or feared, never...this.

“I mean it,” he insisted, clearly aware that she needed to hear it again, needed further convincing. He shifted a bit, throwing a leg over her hip in such a casually possessive gesture that it momentarily took her breath away.

“Do you -- ever wish that you had the opportunity to spend more time in your true form?” she asked, because it wasn’t usual that he so willingly discussed these things -- though possibly it would be now. She tried to imagine what she would do if he said yes, what it would be like to live with a dragon in...well, dragon form. Assuming that living together was a thing that they were going to do again. So much still remained unknown. 

He shook his head, expression earnest. “No. Mostly I just want to be with you.”

“Kai,” she began, realizing how many times she’d started that way tonight and then failed, still unable to be as entirely honest as he so deserved. But then it occurred to her that there was something she _could_ say. It wasn’t adequate by any means, but it was a start. “I _did_ want you there with me, when I confronted the Countess in the wine cellar. I wanted you with me in Germany, on my last assignment. And on my assignment before that. I wanted you with me at home too and -- and this list is going to get ridiculous because I have wanted you with me every moment of every day since you resigned from your Library post.” 

She paused and swallowed hard, her voice getting ragged again. Her throat still wasn’t happy but she was going to finish this. “And if you ask me to, I will happily repeat all of that in the Language to convince you.”

The shift in him was profound and immediate, from near-plaintiveness to the fierce draconic possessiveness that she would have _hated_ from anyone else. From Kai, though...well, it proved that she’d gotten her point across. And it made her feel valued in a way scarcely anyone or anything else ever did. 

“No need for the Language,” said Kai, his voice low and seductive again. “Though if you _want_ to repeat any of that, I certainly won’t stop you.” He sounded happier than he had in days, like those few sentences had been enough to enable him to shed some of his grief for a while at least. 

“How about if I do this instead?” asked Irene, and kissed him deeply. She had a feeling that it would be a _while_ before either of them got back to sleep.


	2. Chapter 2

It felt strange being back in Vale’s world -- being back home. 

In the end, neither she nor Kai had ended up achieving more than a glorified nap, though she couldn’t say she regretted it. The trip between worlds had been uneventful -- if riding on Kai could ever truly be described that way -- as had been their first stop by Vale’s lodgings to drop him off. Kai had insisted on coming with Irene in the cab to her own lodgings, and she certainly wasn’t going to protest. Still, he’d been silent and a bit tense most of the ride and she couldn’t help remembering the last time they’d shared a carriage, all the times over the past couple days that she’d been certain things were damaged irreparably between them.

Logic dictated that wasn’t true -- he was _here_ , after all, and giving every appearance of wanting to be. If anything, he was even more attentive than usual as he helped her out of the cab and paid the driver, keeping an arm around her all the way to their ( _her_ , she had to keep correcting herself) lodgings. Logic dictated that they wanted the same things, were at least close to the same page if not on it already despite all the odds that had been constantly against them. But logic was quiet and unconvincing in the face of blaring paranoia.

Kai released her reluctantly and inclined his head, not quite a bow but most definitely a more formal gesture than he typically showed toward her. “I’ll wish you a good evening, then.” He took her hand and started to pull it toward his lips.

Irene tugged it free easily, aware that this would be the end of the conversation. She wasn’t ready for that. “Wait. Do you have somewhere to be?” It was certainly possible that he was expected back by his father or on some other piece of family business. It was a possibility that made her skin crawl with dread.

He shook his head, though, looking slightly taken aback. “Not other than back at Vale’s. But it’s getting late and you’re still injured. I was thinking you would like to rest.”

“I was never _injured_ ,” Irene protested, though her voice betrayed her by cracking a bit on that last. She was going to have words with it later. 

“You nearly died of hypothermia,” Kai said firmly. “And then from -- well I don’t even know, but I saw all the blood. Vale told me it was yours.”

“He and I are going to have a chat about privacy the next time I see him,” said Irene. 

Kai snorted unceremoniously. “Privacy would require you to stop being involved in very public spectacles.” He held up a hand before she could protest. “The _point_ is, you should rest and I should not delay you further.”

Irene studied him, letting go of the argument about her personal wellbeing for the moment. It would be easy to take him at face value and say good night now. There were even things about that course of action that would be decidedly safer than any alternatives. Only that wasn’t what she wanted. She’d spent the past several weeks -- when she wasn’t on Library assignment anyway -- trying to come to terms with living alone again. She’d been immensely grateful Kai had had the opportunity to stay with Vale, of course, rather than leave the world altogether. But the moments they’d been able to steal together were never enough and mostly the house had felt too empty, too large, and too full of ghosts that were actually desires and regrets. 

Looking at Kai, she thought she saw the same longing in him. She took a deep breath and reminded herself that this chance was too important for her to sabotage with paranoia. “So don’t delay me. Come in. Stay.”

It was subtle but she knew him well enough to see the way his entire posture loosened with relief in response. He offered her a small smile that clearly didn’t even skim the surface of what he was feeling. “Well. That does sound like a good compromise.”

Irene got her key out and unlocked the door, taking his hand and pulling him through behind her before either of them could come up with any more nonsense reasons why he shouldn’t come inside or spend the night. It had only been a few weeks since he’d moved out, but it felt much longer. Only now, in retrospect, did Irene realize how much she’d been dreading the inevitable total loss of him, how constantly she’d worried that the final formal order for him to return to his father’s court was coming. By contrast, he’d seemed relatively relaxed about his situation, almost frustratingly nonchalant. But now, watching him in this space that used to be his home, Irene thought that might have been an act.

He glanced at the pictures in the hallway as he hung up his coat and waited for her to do the same, moving with an uncharacteristic hesitance that seemed to telegraph his awareness that he didn’t live here anymore. Out of habit, Irene found herself doing a quick sweep of the place, looking for any signs of intrusions or other threats, despite how tired she genuinely was. There were none, fortunately, and she was back on the first floor in under a minute, slightly out of breath. Kai was _still_ standing in the entryway, she realized, now looking into the room that used to be their shared study like he might be trying to memorize it. Or like he might have seen a ghost. His desk and chair were still there, of course, looking empty and forlorn in contrast to the mess of books and papers on hers.

“Something wrong?” she prompted, though she had a good idea already. She did still wonder whether he felt any regret over the loss of his Library post or if he was simply displeased by their greatly reduced time together. 

He shrugged. “Not wrong. Just -- You haven’t changed anything.”

She frowned. “Why would I have? For one thing, I’ve hardly been here aside from actually sleeping. And for another, _I_ was never the one who wanted you to move out.”

Kai shook his head, the conversation still not quite connecting. “Irene. Last time I was here, you were in surgery. Because _I’d_ failed to protect you from being shot. Do you have any idea how wrong that felt?”

It was an absolutely absurd thought to have, but so much had happened in the past month -- the past few days, even -- that she had nearly managed to forget that particular misadventure. She knew, of course, that it must have been traumatic for Kai, especially because he’d been forced to act entirely unattached to her. But this was the first he’d mentioned it, the first they’d talked about it at all, and suddenly she felt simultaneously immensely guilty for that and far too exhausted to actually do it. There were so many things they needed to discuss, to work out. So many ways that things between them could still come unraveled. It was really a shame that real-life happy endings couldn’t simply tie themselves up in a neat bow like the denouement of a novel. 

She tore her eyes away from him, promising herself that they would come back to this conversation later. “Tea?”

Kai nodded, taking the clear diversion in stride and following her into the small kitchen. He watched her take the kettle down from its shelf and fill it with water, the silence between them not quite strained but not entirely easy either. When she turned again he was standing surprisingly close behind her, in the way of the stove. He took the kettle out of her hand and set it on the burner, then turned back and abruptly pulled her into a hug. Irene returned it immediately, wrapping her arms around him and running her hands up his back. This embrace didn’t have the same desperation she’d felt in him earlier this morning, but she thought she could still feel a definite sense of longing in it. She allowed herself to relax against him, not letting go.

“You _got shot_ ,” he repeated, his voice thick with emotion now. “And you’ve been in the field _so much_ without me.” His arms tightened around her, like he might somehow be able to protect her from the past several weeks. 

“I didn’t like it any more than you did,” said Irene, feeling the need to placate him, to make it better somehow. That was outside the realm of her power, of course, but she was still going to _try_. 

Kai had seemed so maddeningly calm, so utterly unaffected by all the ways his life had been utterly upended by the businesses with Evariste and Hu. She had almost envied him at times as she’d struggled to convince herself that the change in their status had been worth it, all while worrying herself sick over the possibility that he’d be ordered away at any moment. It ought to be gratifying, finding out now that he’d been in as much emotional agony the whole time, that they’d ironically just been putting on brave faces for one another. But in reality, it just made her heart ache.

“Was it worth it?” she asked, unable to stop herself. She had to know his answer even if she remained as yet undecided on it. “Leaving the Library, resigning as my apprentice. Was it worth it for how things turned out?”

He met her gaze levelly, though it was clear there was still raw emotion just beneath the surface. “Well, that depends.”

“Oh?”

“It _is_ worth it,” he began, determined, “if you --”

The tea kettle interjected with a high pitched shriek that made both of them jump.

Kai sighed and released her. They finished making the tea in silence, as they had so many times before, and brought it up to the lounge with an unspoken agreement. He set the tray on the small table between the two armchairs, then caught her around the waist and pulled her into his lap as he sat down. So that part was new, though she wasn’t going to complain about it.

He poured and handed her a mug of tea, more than familiar with how she took it at this point. He didn’t make any move to pour one for himself yet, though, instead resting his hand on her knee, fingers playing absently along the folds of her skirt. Irene looked into her mug, studying the steam rising from it for a long moment before raising her eyes to his face again. They needed to have this conversation, to finish it, no matter how tempted she might be to let it fall by the wayside. 

“It is worth it,” Irene prompted, feeling an unwarranted sense of dread, “if what?”

Kai pressed his lips together, his tone carefully measured when he spoke. “It’s worth it if you are willing to give this a real shot.”

She inhaled some steam and took a sip of the tea. It was still almost scalding hot, but the sensation wasn’t unwelcome. “Be more specific.”

He made a sound of frustration in the back of his throat. “Us, Irene. Our _personal_ relationship. I know that you know what I mean.”

It felt absurd to be having this conversation while sitting in his lap, but she didn’t want to move, wanted his touch to ground her no matter how backwards that might be. “I thought royal dragons didn’t have long-term romantic relationships. Certainly not monogamous ones.”

“We don’t,” he allowed. “I don’t care. It’s what _I_ want. _With you._ ” She caught a hint of fire in his eyes as he said it.

“And that’s different from what we’ve got now...how?” she asked, because she needed to know his expectations even though she was fairly certain she already knew. 

He sighed, a muscle in his jaw jumping. It was clear that he was working to keep himself under control, which was a feat after the last couple days he’d had. “Up until today, you’ve been distant, Irene. You’ve been telling me everything was one day at a time. You haven’t wanted to give me any sort of commitment or investment because you’ve been waiting for me to leave.”

Irene opened her mouth and then closed it again, genuinely shocked by that level of insight. She knew that Kai was intelligent, of course. And she knew that he knew her better than possibly anyone else in her immediate memory. She had allowed that, after all, yet now it felt like a terrible liability. “Never in my life have I had success at the sort of relationship you’re describing, Kai. It just hasn’t been possible.”

“Because your service to the Library interfered?” asked Kai, his tone sharp but not unkind. “Or because you assumed that it would and therefore didn’t try?”

She recoiled a bit, stung. “That’s not fair.”

“It is and we both know it,” he insisted. “We’ve been dancing around this conversation for months. First it was because I was your student. Then it was because I might be called back to my father’s court. Neither of those things is a problem now, so I’m starting to think they were never the real reasons to begin with.”

She bristled instinctively, not because he was wrong but because he _wasn’t_ and she’d hoped he’d never come to this realization. “Then what, pray tell, _is_ the real reason? Since you clearly know my own mind better than I do.”

“I think you’re afraid,” said Kai, his voice still even, impervious to her vitriol for the moment. “Not of me, of yourself. Of what it would mean to truly let your guard down. I am too, incidentally. But I’ll do it for you if you’ll let me.”

“That’s ridiculous!” Her voice cracked again, giving her words a hysterical edge and she cursed it. “That is patently ridiculous.”

“Tell me you don’t want this,” said Kai, the subtlest hint of scale pattern showing on his cheeks for a moment. “Tell me you don’t want it and I’ll back off. I’ll never ask you again. I’ll work with you as a professional if that’s what you want, or I’ll ask my father to assign a different representative. If you tell me honestly that you don’t want this, Irene, I _will_ respect it. But I am not going to let us lose this chance just because you’re afraid.”

Irene swallowed convulsively, her throat so dry that it hurt. She had risked her own life and the lives of others almost more times than she could count over the past year. She had been responsible for the survival of the Library itself, for preventing cataclysmic war between the dragons and the Fae on more than one occasion. And yet somehow this felt like the most significant moment of that entire time, perhaps because her relationship with Kai had been so integral to everything else. She believed every word that he’d said, knew that she had to commit now despite her fears or else accept the loss of him forever. Anything less was terribly unfair.

She took a sip of her tea and then set the mug on the table, turning back to meet his gaze. Her voice was scarcely more than a hoarse whisper, but she managed the words anyway. “I want this. You.” 

Kai had managed to keep his composure relatively well throughout this conversation, had managed to appear less affected than Irene felt. But the way he reacted now, she realized again that it had been a facade. Exhaling a huge breath, he pulled her close and buried his face in her shoulder. Returning his embrace, she could feel him shaking, his heart hammering in his chest.

“All right,” he managed after a moment, his voice a bit muffled by the fabric of her dress. “All right, then that’s what matters. The rest we can figure out.”

“You are more perceptive than I ever gave you credit for,” said Irene. The words were coming more easily now, though she felt breathless with adrenaline. It was an incredibly vulnerable thing to realize and yet reassuring at the same time.

“I can handle myself,” said Kai, turning his head to look up at her. “And I can help you with some of this too if you’ll just _let me in._ ”

“I want to,” she admitted, and meant it. She’d already come to rely on him for so much, and she was grateful for it, even if it was terrifying at times. “It’s just -- I’m not sure it’s in my nature.”

The corners of Kai’s lips twitched. “If dragons can sign a peace treaty with Fae, then I think _you_ can learn to talk about a few feelings.” He tapped her temple lightly with a finger, like that might magically unlock something in her mind.

“If I do,” she warned, “you might not like what you get to hear.” That was part of her hesitation, in reality -- she would prefer to spare him the worst parts of herself, though she was perfectly aware that meant keeping some of her more formidable mental armor in place. 

Paradoxically, he smiled at that but his eyes were soft and more than a bit sad. “All you’ve seen of me -- in the past few days especially -- and you’re concerned that _I_ won’t like what I learn of _you_?”

Irene stared at him, dumbfounded. She knew, of course, that he was ashamed of a plethora of things she’d witnessed: being kidnapped, requiring rescue, his subsequent post-traumatic stress. Not to mention...well, everything in Paris. “I don’t know that I’ve learned _anything_ of you I didn’t like. Certainly not the things _you_ would be thinking of.” She’d decided not to mention some of his more maddening tendencies. Those were in a different, far more benign category.

Kai laughed mirthlessly. “Well, then it appears we are at an impasse. Because I would say the same to you.”

“Maybe that’s why we’re a good match,” said Irene. “We’re infinitely more forgiving of each other than ourselves.”

“Then perhaps we should trust each other’s judgment,” Kai said hopefully.

Irene gave him a look. “And if I pointed out that I have already suggested you do that regarding the past few days?”

He sighed. “I see your point.”

“All right,” she said resolutely, because despite everything they’d both just admitted, she felt the need to offer something further. A test of the safety he was suggesting, perhaps. Or perhaps she was just that stubborn. “You want honesty? Here’s some for you: I have spent the past several days waiting for your family to order you away from me for the rest of my natural life, perhaps even if I _did_ manage to find a solution to the crime that didn’t implicate any dragons. And then when I realized what the truth _was_ , I was certain that you would never forgive me for proving it to you. In fact, part of me is still not certain that you do, though I know you don’t want me to keep apologizing.” She paused, taking a breath. Her throat and her eyes were burning in tandem. “There, are you happy?”

“Yes,” he breathed, the intensity in that single word nearly overwhelming. “ _Yes,_ actually, I am.”

“Oh, good for you,” Irene said tartly, unsure why she was irritated by getting the exact response she would’ve hoped for from him. Perhaps because her instincts were still trying to insist that all of this was too good to be true, that she shouldn’t trust it. 

“Yes,” Kai said again, in that maddeningly calm tone that meant he actually wanted to be superior but knew better and thought she couldn’t tell that he was suppressing the urge. “It _is_ good for me that you trust me.”

She opened her mouth and then closed it again, making the conscious decision not to snap at him. Her anger was utterly nonsensical and she knew it. In fact, she also knew that it really had nothing to do with him but rather her own guilt, her own sense of needing to be punished. Losing her temper at him now wouldn’t even accomplish that, though -- It would only hurt him and make her feel worse.

He touched her cheek, possibly sensing the argument she was having with herself. His expression had softened again, the self-satisfaction gone. Now he only looked earnest and a bit sad. “I thought you might have had that fear the past few weeks. It made sense with how emotionally distant you were being.”

She resisted the urge to tell him that being emotionally distant was one of her particular specialties. This was not the time for sarcasm, tempting as it was. “You didn’t have the same fear?”

“Well no,” said Kai, “because _I_ knew I wasn’t going anywhere. Which I believe I also told you on a couple of occasions.”

“You did,” she admitted. Those instances stood out particularly vividly in her recent memory, though to be honest she’d been replaying every moment stolen with him at least several dozen times in her mind. “I suppose -- I assumed there was a limit to it. That it would only be true until your father or one of your uncles ordered you otherwise.” That might have been unfair too, but it fit with everything she knew of him and his views of family ties.

“Irene.” He laced their fingers and then kissed the back of her hand, his lips warm and his breath warmer. “I had certainly hoped it wouldn’t come to that. But -- Do you remember what you said to me the first time I told you that I was afraid my father or my uncles might order me away from my post?”

She was holding onto his hand with more force than she typically would have allowed herself or considered dignified. But right now, she wasn’t willing to add that constraint to the pressures already piled on her shoulders. “I said that I wouldn’t lose you. That I would find a solution.” How ironic that statement had seemed in the months to follow, when she’d begun to question whether it might be in everyone’s best interest for him to be assigned a more objective mentor.

He nodded. “And that is also how I would answer you now.”

“Even if it meant defying your family outright?” It felt like an embarrassment, like a pathetically needy question to be asking right now. Then again, hadn’t he practically begged her to show this side of herself?

“Irene, don’t you see?” He touched her chin gently, bringing her gaze back to his own. His eyes were dark and fathomless as the sea. “ _You are_ my family. And I am not going to leave you.”

For the past few days -- _months_ was more truthful -- she had been building walls inside of her head and her heart. A whole maze of them, sealing off emotional vulnerabilities that threatened her ability to function, to keep pressing forward: Alberich, chaos infestation, burning books. The threat to her parents, to the treaty, to so many worlds as she’d known them. And running through it all, her desperate affection -- no, _love_ was the right word even if she was unsure that she’d ever be able to say it -- for Kai, her fear of hurting or failing him. In the end all it took was that one simple statement, his conviction put in terms that she could finally understand, that even her deepest paranoia could not deny. It burst through her walls like a wave through a dam, all of the emotions washing over her at once. She was crying before she’d even realized it, curling her fingers into the fabric of his shirt as tears blurred the room around her.

“I’ve got you,” he breathed against her ear, shifting in the chair so that he was sitting up straighter, arms wrapped firmly around her waist. He brought one hand up to curl into her hair, pulling her head to his shoulder. “Relax. I promise I’ve got you.”

And he did. It had scarcely ever occurred to her how lonely it was to feel responsible for so much: her assignments, her friends, the Library itself. She had been raised to rely only on herself, had had that conviction reinforced so very many times before she’d met Kai. And though she’d come to rely on him in so many ways, her responsibility _for him_ had always been at the forefront, even when it came to protecting him from her own emotions. Now, though, she was finally too worn down to consider any of it, too exhausted to do anything but hold onto him and sob. Despite all of her fears and everything he’d just been through, Kai was perfectly steady now, solid and warm and safe in a way that she hadn’t even realized she’d been denying herself. 

It wasn’t as though she ever paid particularly close attention to the passage of time apart from when there was an external deadline, but being lost in her own emotions, in the sensation of being held, it seemed particularly amorphous. The tears came until her eyes felt swollen and too large for their lids, until her lungs ached and her throat felt as though it could begin to freshly bleed again. She _hated_ crying and there was no way around that. But as the pain began to ebb, she did have to admit that the world felt less overwhelming, her nerves less like they were about to snap. Kai was still rubbing her back with one hand, the other in her hair. When she finally lifted her head to look at him, his expression was so tender that it nearly set her off again. 

“That was ridiculous,” she said instead, wiping at her eyes with the back of her hand.

“It wasn’t,” Kai said gently. “And you needed it, just like I did earlier today.”

She wrinkled her nose at him as she took that in. “And because you invoked your own emotions, now I can’t say that was pathetic without implying the same of you. You did that on purpose.”

His lips twisted into a smirk. “I _did_ have a very good teacher.”

“How is it that practically everything I managed to teach you was unintentional?” She was impressed with his skills, in truth, but it still irked her when he turned them back on her this way, even when it was for her own good. 

“I’m fairly certain I learned most of the intentional lessons too,” Kai said blithely, clearly pleased by this line of conversation. “I just wanted to get all I could out of my time as your student.”

“Flatterer,” she accused without conviction. Though she couldn’t entirely escape the instinctive sense of shame at such an emotional display, she was beginning to feel undeniably better -- not quite content or happy yet, but almost. 

“Absolutely.” He kissed the side of her neck, lingering before pulling back to look at her again. “And I still intend to learn from you, you know. Though don’t you dare start putting pressure on yourself to be my superior again. We are _not_ teacher and student any longer, no matter how much I respect you.”

“I know.” Even so, it would take time and effort to let go of that particular sense of responsibility. She owed it to him, though. It was far past time for him to be defining his own roles. “So what do you _want_ to be?”

“Your partner,” he said immediately and easily, the eagerness written all over his face. “I know you’ll need time, but -- please let me.”

She nodded, turning the word over in her mind. She’d had friends before, had had teammates and even lovers. It wasn’t as though she had _always_ been alone, though it had been most of the time. Still, she wasn’t sure there was anyone in her past she’d consider to have been a partner in the true, equal sense. The idea of it felt frightening, felt too good to be possible, but...didn’t that define most of her relationship with Kai? Irene swallowed and decided to allow herself another moment of honesty. “That would be nice.”

“Then consider it done,” said Kai, in that particular tone of his that was so sincere that it made anything seem possible. “You didn’t drink much of your tea.”

“You didn’t drink any,” she pointed out. “And _someone_ distracted me with an extremely difficult conversation. Though I suppose I can admit it was overdue. Anyway, it’ll be cold now.”

“But it would help your throat,” he pointed out. “How about you go get ready for bed and I’ll make another pot?”

It was dark outside, she realized belatedly, and they were both seriously overdue for some real rest, especially considering that new orders regarding the treaty were probably imminent in the morning. 

“All right,” she allowed, and got to her feet, pulling him up behind her. 

She started off toward the bedroom but Kai kept hold of her hand, pulling her back and catching her in another hug. 

She arched an eyebrow and he smiled in return. “Just because I can.” 

Then he brushed a kiss against her forehead, swept up their forgotten pot of tea, and went down the stairs, light on his feet.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you enjoyed this, please let me know. ;)


	3. Chapter 3

In Irene’s experience, no unplanned knock at the door prior to nine in the morning was ever good news. Granted, she probably should have been expecting it given that it had already been over twenty-four hours since the signing of the treaty and she hadn’t made any move to seek out her next set of orders. She was already awake when it came, which made her feel slightly less murderous about it, but not at all inclined to get out of bed.

Next to her, Kai made a sound of the exact sort of disapproval she was currently feeling, throwing an arm across his eyes in a way that made her think of hapless maidens and fainting couches. “Do you think if we ignore it, they’ll go away?”

Irene sighed as the knocking came again, more insistent this time. “If they do, we’ll probably like it even less when they come back. You know it’s going to be about the treaty or the embassy. You know, our jobs?”

“Ah yes, those.” He stretched and sat up far too elegantly for the level of complaints he’d been making just a moment before. “I’ll go, you stay here.”

Irene bit back the instinct to protest, to tell him that he wasn’t supposed to be here and that it would be bad for him to be discovered. That wasn’t a consideration anymore, she reminded herself. The secret was out no matter what they did, and the world hadn’t ended...so far, at least. She rolled onto her side, because it had occurred to her that she had no reason _not_ to watch him hurriedly pull on clothes. “Be careful. It’s probably some official business, but --”

“I know,” said Kai, and bent to kiss her temple. “As long as you don’t make me hide in the bathroom with Vale again.” He was off down the stairs before she had a chance to retort.

It was somewhat tempting to stay in bed and let Kai deal with their visitor. She was still tired and more than a bit sore, her throat still feeling rough in a way that suggested her voice would continue to crack treacherously for at least another day or so. But she knew it was only a matter of time before she had to get up and acknowledge her responsibilities, no matter how much she might want another few days -- well, months, if she was going to indulge in this sort of fantasy -- to herself. Besides which, the bed was much less appealing now that Kai wasn’t in it. Apparently it had only taken a couple nights of sharing with him to cement that as her definite preference. Grudgingly, she got up and dressed while keeping an ear peeled for any signs of trouble downstairs. 

It was quiet, though, and she’d almost managed to convince herself that perhaps it had only been Vale at the door until she came down and found Bradamant seated at the dining table. She was stylishly dressed as always and perfectly coiffed. She looked far too alert for this hour of the morning and far too unscathed by the events of the past few days. She also looked less than thrilled to be there, which matched the way Irene felt about her presence. Still, Bradamant had just acted as something approaching an ally in Paris, and she resolved to at least _start_ by being civil. 

Kai caught her arm as she made her way through the kitchen and put a mug of coffee into her hands. The smell of it was incredibly enticing, but that only made her annoyance for this whole situation grow. “You made coffee for her?” She kept her voice low, though she’d already decided she didn’t particularly care if her displeasure was overheard.

His lip curled in a clear expression of disgust and resentment she could only hope was toward Bradamant rather than her. “No, I made coffee for _you_.”

Irene blinked, taken aback. That made sense, of course. It wasn’t like she thought Kai was any fan of Bradamant’s. It was just that her presence always stirred Irene’s habitual paranoia in a specifically intense way. “Oh. Well, thank you. Apparently I need it.”

“She’s here on business,” said Kai, clearly trying to be reassuring, though his protectiveness undercut that somewhat.

“Why does it always have to be her?” Irene grumbled, then plastered on a smile as she made her way to the table. “Good morning. I see you found your way back from Paris.” Not that Bradamant still frequented this alternate, thankfully.

“I see that you did too,” Bradamant returned coolly, sipping from her own mug.

The table was only large enough for two people, which left Kai to lean in the doorway. He’d dressed quickly in clothes from their luggage, his shirt uncharacteristically rumpled and his long hair still loose. There was something oddly intimate about it that made Irene feel distinctly exposed, though _he_ seemed perfectly comfortable.

“Now that you’re both here, I suppose that I can fill you in,” said Bradamant, looking back and forth between the two of them. “How convenient that I should find you both at the same lodgings again. It certainly does save me a lot of time.”

“Our pleasure to save you the effort,” said Kai, in a tone that somehow managed to be both haughty and impeccably polite. Irene made a mental note to tell him later that it was impressive.

“We _were_ just given orders to work together,” Irene reminded her, trying and probably failing not to sound defensive.

“Yes, and I’m sure that’s what you were doing all night,” said Bradamant. “ _Working._ ”

She bristled despite herself. “Kai said you were here on business?”

Bradamant nodded. “Much to my chagrin, I’ve been assigned to assist you in the establishment of the embassy. Strictly in a support capacity. My instructions were _quite_ explicit that all substantive decisions will be yours. I think that’s a waste after all the trouble we went to in getting the treaty signed, but orders are orders.”

“Well,” Irene said coldly, taking a large swallow of coffee and ignoring the way it burned against her tired throat, “then it’ll be an easy assignment for you. We won’t be needing any assistance.”

“Yes, you will,” Bradamant answered smoothly. “The embassy needs to be open for business as soon as possible and the two of you need to be working on corresponding policy. Which means you don’t have time for things like procuring and outfitting a suitable building.”

“We don’t need a building,” said Irene. “This one will do just fine.”

For a moment Bradamant looked as though she was going to spit out the coffee she’d just drunk. She managed to swallow before speaking, though. “Irene, this place is a dump. Not to mention that you don’t even have a table suitable for all of _us_ to sit together. Where were you planning to put a Fae representative? And how about anyone who’s here for formal meetings with you?”

Irene opened her mouth and then closed it again. She hadn’t considered that, of course, because she hadn’t had the time to accept let alone _think about_ any of this. All she knew was that she didn’t feel ready for things to change so very drastically and that she certainly didn’t want Bradamant to be here for it. “We have a study and a lounge.”

“And two bedrooms,” Bradamant pointed out. “Though I’m sure that next you’ll tell me the two of you will only require _one_.”

“Of course it would be improprietous for us to share a room,” said Kai, his face perfectly impassive. “Irene, she has a point. This will be rather a larger operation than our previous work.”

Irene considered that, doing her best to instruct her emotions to keep quiet. It was far too early in the morning to be coping with the fact that Kai was agreeing with something Bradamant had said. Then again, it wasn’t as if that had never happened and besides which, Bradamant was probably only expressing the opinions of Coppelia or one of the other senior Librarians. To be fair, it wasn’t as if she _wanted_ to be conducting embassy business in her home, receiving potentially angry Fae or dragons only a few yards away from her bedroom. That sort of thing was precisely the reason that she’d been terrified of this role in the first place. But despite that, she didn’t _like_ the idea of establishing a dedicated building. That made this real in a way her less rational side didn’t want to face yet. Unfortunately the world wasn’t about to wait for her emotions to get with the program.

“All right,” she allowed. “Perhaps an office space, then? I believe I saw some suitable properties with relatively low rent in this area.”

Bradamant made a dismissive sound, not quite rolling her eyes, though it was clear the intent was there. “It’s an embassy, Irene, not some sort of clerk’s office.”

Irene started to respond, then caught sight of Kai in her peripheral vision. He had the sort of tense look that she knew meant he didn’t agree with her and didn’t want to say it. She took a long drink of coffee and tried to swallow her irritation down with it. 

“What’s your suggestion?” Kai asked Bradamant, apparently sensing that he needed to take over the conversation right now if it was going to remain civil. 

Bradamant sighed and turned her mug in a little half-circle on the table, making it abundantly obvious that she was exhibiting _extraordinary_ patience with this situation. Which of course negated her demonstrating any patience at all, but Irene was not going to say that because she was absolutely the bigger person. 

“It’s not a suggestion,” said Bradamant crisply. “Nor are we _looking into_ a suitable property. I told you I was assigned to assist you, and the first part of that was procuring an appropriate property. That’s already done, and you’ll be expected to move in by next week. I’m just here to fetch you so that you can tour it and begin organizing.”

Irene opened her mouth and then closed it again, trying to control her expression of the shock and completely irrational betrayal she felt at that. To be fair, it _was_ largely due to the fact that Bradamant had been the one to deliver the news. From anyone else, she might have been annoyed at it taking this long to get to the point. But from Bradamant, it felt like a setup. Like it had been orchestrated specifically to make her look like a fool.

“‘Move in’?” Kai repeated, mimicking Bradamant’s tone in a way that would have been comical if Irene’s sense of humor hadn’t been buried under irritation. “The plan is for the representatives to both live and work at the embassy?”

“Well yes,” said Bradamant. “As I said, it’s not some clerk’s office. The idea is for one or more representatives to be available at all times should an urgent situation arise. Is that acceptable to you, your highness?” There was definite sarcasm in that last, but subtle enough to maintain plausible deniability. 

“Well, yes, it makes great sense from a diplomatic standpoint.” Kai smirked, looking thoroughly pleased on more than one level. “Besides which, it will be _terribly_ convenient for you to _continue_ finding us at the same lodgings.”

Bradamant rolled her eyes and made a sound of disgust in the back of her throat. Irene swallowed the last of her coffee and tried to ignore the way it ached on the way down.

* * *

The embassy -- or the building Bradamant had procured for the embassy, Irene corrected herself, because she wasn’t quite ready to accept it as done yet -- was approximately ten minutes away by cab, though in a much more affluent area of the city. The location was probably a good thing, strategically speaking, and it positioned them closer to Vale. Yet she still couldn’t shake the sense of being out of her depth, of having lost control of this situation. Irene had always prided herself on being adaptable, on not getting too attached to any one particular way of life. She was _happy_ about the treaty, and in theory about her role with the embassy and yet…

And yet she couldn’t shake the overwhelming sense of loss that kept her wary and irritable throughout the ride despite Kai’s continued good humor and his arm resting casually around her shoulders. It felt too soon when they arrived, the world a bit off-balance as they descended from the cab and climbed the steps.

The door was already cracked, Irene realized belatedly, her defensive instincts flaring. Anyone at all could be on the other side -- she’d been involved with more than her share of murder plots recently, after all. Her mind was racing to catch up, to identify useful words in the Language and have them ready to wield the instant danger presented itself. 

Before she could even finish that thought, however, Bradamant pushed past her and opened the door, revealing Silver standing in the entryway, looking about as pleased as Irene was dismayed. 

“Good morning!” he greeted, sounding entirely too enthusiastic for this hour or this set of circumstances. “You’re both looking -- well, I don’t want to say ‘the worse for wear,’ but...fortunately both of you are _more_ than attractive enough to make up for it.”

“And you look like a man who hasn’t been out of bed before noon for the past century,” Kai retorted smoothly, raking his eyes over Silver in a way that clearly said he was making an appraisal and was not impressed.

Silver clapped a hand over his heart, feigning betrayal. “Are you implying that _I_ would choose to remain in bed when there are such important developments taking place?”

“I’m not implying anything,” said Kai. “I am _saying_ that I’m not sure what you’re even doing here, considering that you claimed to be relieved to not be selected as a representative.”

“That doesn’t seem the most auspicious start to our new treaty,” said Silver, though it was clear he wasn’t serious. He was antagonizing Kai on purpose and he knew it. Now he was practically pouting theatrically. “Unfair prejudice from the dragon representative. I may not be the Fae representative but I am nonetheless here on behalf of my people’s interests.”

Kai smiled blithely. “I don’t have to make any sort of statement about the Fae as a whole in order to dislike _you_.”

“Children,” Bradamant interrupted. “Come on. The tour of this property is starting. I need you all to get on the same page.”

“Well, I doubt if _that_ will ever happen,” said Kai, his tone absolutely indicating that he was still enjoying this immensely. 

Irene shot him a disapproving glance despite the fact that it _was_ entertaining watching him spar, especially with Bradamant. They were supposed to be acting like professionals, no matter how tempting it might be to do otherwise. He didn’t appear to register it, though she was certain he hadn’t actually failed to notice.

“This way,” said Bradamant, pointing into the next room and staunchly ignoring him. “There are three levels to this house, not including the basement which will of course be designated for the kitchen and the servants’ quarters.”

“Wait,” Irene interrupted, again feeling that sense of things careening out of her control. It was like being on a runaway train car, except the last time _that_ had actually happened, she’d had the Language to help her. It was really a shame that using it on Bradamant and Silver wasn’t a viable option. “We won’t be needing servants.”

“Speak for yourself,” said Silver. “Servants seem a necessity to me.”

“You aren’t even going to live here,” Kai reminded him. “You don’t get to have an opinion.”

“Not so fast,” Silver returned smugly. “The Fae delegate has yet to be chosen, which means it _could_ be me, much to my displeasure.” He didn’t sound displeased by that possibility in the least. 

“If you want the position,” said Bradamant, “then you should formally declare your intent. I’m sure something could be arranged, at least from the Library’s standpoint.”

“I believe _I_ am the designated representative of the Library,” Irene interrupted coolly. This sort of behavior from Bradamant was exactly what she’d been dreading. 

“Indeed you are,” Bradamant allowed. “Which makes it ridiculous that you’re trying to refuse appropriate lodgings and staff for your position. Perhaps you really _are_ too inexperienced for this, Irene.”

“Kai?” Irene asked, though she had a feeling she was going to regret that, and not just because her ego was smarting from that last blow. It was becoming increasingly clear to Irene that their new positions were going to mean spending a lot more time discussing subjects where they fundamentally disagreed. Not a particularly pleasant thing to consider, given the other...recent developments in their relationship. “Do you want servants?”

“Well,” he said, clearly choosing his words, possibly because he’d come to the same conclusion, “it would make sense for a political establishment. Assuming that the purpose of having this space is to use it for such things as meetings and formal dinners...I should think we’ll have more pressing things to occupy us than cooking for visitors.”

Irene took a deep breath, trying to steady herself again and perhaps find some of the good humor that the others seemed to be feeling. “You mean more pressing things to occupy _you_. Seeing as how you’ve banned me from the kitchen.”

His lips curled into a smirk. “Well. You said it, not me.”

“Oh good,” said Bradamant. “Now that you’ve made a decision that was already made for you, perhaps we could move on to something actually productive?”

“I’ll decide what’s productive and what isn’t,” said Irene, feeling the need to assert her authority before Bradamant could continue to undermine her further. She _wasn’t_ the sole authority here, she reminded herself, no matter how often she’d seemed to find herself in that position recently. It was important that she empower Kai as her equal in these decisions, and Silver...well, perhaps he wasn’t _precisely_ an equal contributor, but…

“Oh, I _do_ like it when you make the power moves,” said Silver, his smile turning lascivious. 

Irene felt the first brush of his influence, which had been blessedly quiet thus far this morning. Now she found goosebumps trying to rise on her arms at the sound of his voice, and she couldn’t help remembering Kai telling her essentially the exact same thing in Paris, when they’d been -- She quashed that thought decisively. She was _not_ going to mix _anything_ she had actually done with Kai with the supid, meaningless force of Silver’s glamour. It both helped and didn’t to realize Kai was glaring daggers at Silver when she managed to tear her eyes away from the magnetism of his.

“The tour?” Irene prompted Bradamant. She was well aware that put her essentially back in the position she’d just been trying to escape, with Bradamant taking the lead and probably continuing her snide remarks. But at the moment it was the lesser of two evils.

“Right,” said Bradamant crisply. “As I’ve been _trying_ to say, the primary goal today is to determine the organization of the place so I can start working on the procurement of furniture and other necessary supplies.”

“Oh, I can most certainly be of service in the procurement department,” said Silver, still managing to make it sound as though he was offering to deal in sexual favors rather than furniture. Then again, knowing him…

“My father’s court will of course contribute as well,” Kai added, surprising Irene again. 

She’d thought she was all too aware of the implications of his being a dragon and being of the royal blood in particular. Gods knew it had been on her mind, had kept her up at night _plenty_ over the past month. It had felt like a relief, having something resembling his father’s approval of their continuing to work together, but until now she realized she’d failed to consider the ways in which his new position strengthened his ties to dragon politics, to his father’s court. That would certainly have a larger role in their lives now, and she didn’t like the thought. It had been nice to be able to pretend those complexities didn’t exist as long as they could both avoid discussing them too much. 

“Great,” said Bradamant, “excellent. I would have expected no less. But the point remains, we need to decide how to designate and organize each room in order for any of us to be able to accomplish anything further.”

“Then perhaps you should stop delaying and give us the tour,” Kai said archly, offering Bradamant his most charming smile when she glared at him. 

For a moment Irene had the thought that she should talk to him about professionalism later, then reminded herself that she was not his teacher anymore, and Bradamant no longer outranked him either. That meant she was free to enjoy Kai’s antagonizing her all she wanted, though she preferred not to think what that said about her own professional values. 

She felt better a moment later, though, when he shot a withering glance at Silver and waited for him to follow Bradamant out into the hallway before resting a hand against the small of her back in an unmistakable gesture of possessiveness.

“I would say _I’m_ the only one allowed to enjoy you taking charge,” he murmured against her ear, “but the implications of the alternative are...awkward at best.”

Irene resisted the urge to shiver at the brush of his breath. His effect on her was nothing like Silver’s, though equally intoxicating. And equally uncomfortable when she realized she was having those thoughts _here_ with so many more important things to deal with. “Well, there are different ways of taking charge, you know.”

The others had gotten ahead of them a bit, Bradamant saying something about the house that Irene couldn’t quite make out -- possibly because it was difficult to hear from this distance or possibly because she was distracted.

“And you’re excellent at all of them,” Kai said in that same quiet but intense tone before steering her after the rest of the group.

“Nice of you to join us,” said Bradamant, though they’d never been more than a few yards away. Irene bit back a retort, telling herself it would be most effective to simply remain quiet and let her continue. The sooner this was over, the better. “As I was reiterating to the others, there are three levels in addition to the basement. The first thing we need to determine is what will be private living quarters and what will be business space.”

“There’s a difference?” Silver asked predictably.

“Well, perhaps not at _your_ embassy,” Kai said sniffily, but Irene was acutely aware that he still had his hand resting against her back.

“Perhaps that’s why _my_ embassy is infinitely more fun,” Silver returned easily.

“I can’t imagine that’s a very difficult bar to meet, considering that all I’ve ever seen you do at it is throw parties.” Kai crossed his arms, and Irene was simultaneously disappointed by the loss of contact and relieved that that particular distraction had passed.

“If you’d like to see more, you’re welcome anytime, princeling,” said Silver with a smile that simultaneously promised danger and an invitation to the bedroom. 

“Let’s see the rest of the house before we attempt to make any decisions,” Irene broke in, acutely aware of the tension rising between them despite the fact that they both were continuing to play at cordiality. The last thing she needed was for the treaty to be destabilized by trivial decisions about moving house of all things.

“Yes, that’s a good idea,” said Bradamant, in sincere agreement for once. 

The house was large -- _significantly_ larger than their current lodgings -- and it had an even more significant presence to it. The place felt almost cavernous as Irene turned her attention to its features, became aware of the way their voices and their footfalls echoed. Logically she knew that was mainly because it was empty, that having it fully furnished and decorated would make the place feel inviting and would dampen the sound. But right now it felt overwhelming, felt like it could swallow her whole. Really that was how she felt about this entire turn of events when she actually considered fulfilling her new position. 

She’d spent the past few days so completely focused on averting catastrophe that achieving the treaty, doing what had made Coppelia proud, had felt like a relief. Only that was a false sense of security, because representing the interests of the Library in the treaty meant that a large amount of the pressure she’d been feeling would _never_ be relieved. True, her parents weren’t currently hostages -- at least as far as she knew -- and the parties weren’t _immediately_ about to kill one another, but a failure now could have much broader consequences. _That_ was why she’d been feeling such a sense of dread since Bradamant had arrived on her doorstep bearing a harsh dose of reality, and good as she was at daring escapes, she didn’t think there was going to be a viable route this time.

“There are four large rooms on this level,” Bradamant was saying when Irene forced her attention away from her own thoughts again. “The one we just saw, with its adjacent counterpart similarly sized. The two across the hall are less similar. One is larger than the first two, and the fourth is the smallest of the set. If I’ve lost anyone, I’ll be happy to repeat myself.”

“The largest should be the dining room,” Silver said instead, making his way toward it, which caused the rest of the group to follow. 

“Why?” asked Kai, just a pace behind as they both entered the room. Irene stayed back to watch from the doorway because there wasn’t much to be seen: it was large and empty like everything else.

“Because the dining room should be large,” said Silver, as though that should have been obvious. “With a suitably large table and a suitably large number of chairs. Really it’s a pity that _none_ of these is large enough to be a ballroom.”

“It might be,” said Kai, “if we were planning to host any balls here. This is _business_ space.”

“Oh, my dear princeling.” Silver shook his head, like he was humoring a small child. “Balls _are_ business.”

“Technically,” Irene interrupted, “we said we weren’t making any decisions about what’s what before we’ve seen it all.”

“No, _you_ said that, little mouse,” Silver pointed out. His tone was almost careless, but she was certain that he’d chosen this strategic moment to wield her least favorite pet name. He might be an incorrigible libertine, but he was no fool. “ _I_ am saying that this is the dining room.”

“And I’m saying that the dining room should not be our top priority for space,” said Kai. He shot Irene a look that was clearly guilty, clearly aware that he was continuing this conversation against her suggestion rather than supporting her. 

She did her best not to feel stung by that, reminding herself again that she was not in charge here, that they were all supposed to be equals, and that that meant she needed to separate her professional opinions from her personal feelings. 

“You’ll presumably also want spaces for meetings that don’t involve meals,” said Bradamant, also shooting a look in Irene’s direction. This one was decidedly judgmental, nothing at all like Kai’s. “A drawing room and a lounge, perhaps. Or a library.”

“Definitely a lounge,” said Silver, his tone indicating that he intended it for a different sort of meetings.

A muscle in Kai’s jaw was twitching, his whole body taut with barely-concealed rage. “Presumably we’ll also need more formal office space in addition to meeting areas. Are there rooms that would be better suited to that upstairs?”

“No,” said Bradamant. “The two upper floors are laid out identically, intended to have two bedrooms, a bathroom, and a lounge space each. Of course, that doesn’t mean they have to be _used_ that way, so I suppose some of those intended bedrooms could instead be offices.”

“I for one am in favor of the bedroom-office amalgam,” Silver said predictably. 

Irene sighed. She was rapidly developing one of her headaches, and she hadn’t even been using the Language. “It seems most prudent to keep business and living spaces separate, particularly given the nature of this specific embassy.” She could only imagine how awkward it could get to be having meetings next door to a bedroom. Particularly if Silver did end up as the official Fae representative. 

Kai nodded. “I agree, so that’s a majority.”

Silver shook his head, pouting. “You both could have so much more fun in life.”

“Offices down here, then,” said Bradamant, clearly trying to steer the conversation back on track. “That leaves the options of having one open space that you -- that the three _official_ representatives -- all share, or I could arrange to have walls put up in one of these rooms.”

“Walls,” Kai said immediately. He peered back into the room they’d been discussing as a possible dining area earlier, then moved back across the hall to inspect the others, probably trying to decide which was best for offices.

Silver’s expression was equal parts impertinent and smug. “No walls.” He turned to Irene, the motion causing a hint of his glamour to brush her again, like teasing fingers. “That makes you tie breaker.”

She crossed her arms and tried to ignore the stupid, distracting thoughts her mind was trying to conjure in response to his influence, no doubt an intentional distraction on his part. Her immediate temptation was to agree with Kai that walls were preferable, both for privacy and because she could only imagine how difficult it would be to get work done in an open space with this sort of dynamic at hand. But, the more rational part of her mind insisted, walls were perhaps not the most strategic decision. The purpose of the treaty was to foster cooperation, and the embassy was the way of implementing that ideal, making it concrete. If they were going to cooperate and trust one another, then that required transparency. Having their offices in one open room would avoid any appearance of one faction holding secret meetings or trying to distort the balance of power. She hated it when the rational part of her mind was right about things like this.

“No walls,” said Irene, conscious of Kai giving her a scandalized look in her peripheral vision. She would just have to explain the logic of it to him later and hope that he understood. “The purpose of this embassy is for all three factions to coexist peacefully, so we’ll be the exemplar of that by sharing our workspace.”

Silver grinned impishly and took a step closer to her, clearly about to make some utterly inappropriate remark.

Irene held up a hand for silence before he could. “Do not tempt me to change my mind.”

“No walls it is,” said Bradamant. “Good, that’s one fewer thing to accomplish. Now, which room are you designating as which?”

“The largest can be the dining room,” said Kai, and Irene’s paranoia immediately piped up to question whether he was agreeing with Silver specifically to spite her. But that was nonsense, of course.

“Fine with me,” said Irene, then considered the other three rooms. “If we’re going to have a lounge, then it should probably be the one closest to the dining room.” 

Nobody objected to that, which she thought might have been a first for this entire day. 

“Offices in this one,” said Kai, gesturing to the room across the corridor that he’d just been examining. “The windows should give it good light.”

When there were no objections to that either, Bradamant spoke up again. “So that leaves us with the final large room down here. It could be a drawing room, or --”

“Make it a library,” Irene said firmly. “If we’re going to have a lounge, then we’re also going to have a library.”

“Oh, I don’t know,” Silver balked, clearly still just trying to be contrary. In fact, she was beginning to wonder if that wasn’t his entire purpose here today. “Doesn’t that give you overly preferential territory?”

“I want it to be a library too,” said Kai, coming back to stand at her elbow. When she glanced at him, she realized that was a sincere sentiment, not just his acting as her ally. He might have ended up apprenticed to the Library for largely political reasons, but that didn’t change the fact that his love of books was as genuine as her own. 

“Library it is.” Bradamant actually sounded somewhat pleased by that too. “So that just leaves the question of bedrooms. There are the four upstairs, as I mentioned. And there’s this space down here.” 

She led them over to a smaller room by the stairs. It wasn’t clear what it might originally have been intended for, but it clearly _could_ be made into a functional living space, no matter how disdainfully Silver and Kai were both regarding it at the moment.

“If you only use the upper floors for living space, then obviously two of you would need to share a level.” She looked at Irene and smirked a bit before continuing. “Alternatively, it could be one floor each, if one of you is willing to take this smaller space.”

“The Fae will most definitely be requiring an entire floor,” said Silver. “With its multiple bedrooms. Though if anyone wanted to _share_ a bedroom, I’m sure something could be arranged.” He raked his gaze over Irene first, then Kai, expression indicating that he was most definitely undressing both of them in his mind.

“No.” Kai’s eyes flashed red, scale pattern flaring on his cheekbones as his temper came unraveled. “There will be no sharing. There will be no parties or debauchery or -- or whatever _else_ you usually do. This is an _embassy_ , not a brothel.”

“Ooh, touchy.” Silver sounded absolutely delighted. “Last I checked, the ethically questionable relationship was between the two of _you_. Whereas I have never claimed to be anything above my nature.”

“You are acting as though you’re the official Fae ambassador here,” Kai said through gritted teeth. “Which you are _not_.”

“Not yet, anyway.” His voice was practically sing-song, a taunt. Then he shrugged, dropping the offensive. “Nevertheless, the Fae will require a residential floor.”

“Fine,” said Kai. “Then you -- no, the Fae ambassador -- gets the top floor. Irene?”

The fire in his eyes was gone now as he turned to her, replaced by a coldness that reinforced the knot of dread that had been forming in her stomach all day, tightening itself painfully during that last exchange. His expression now reminded her of the way he acted around his family, when he needed to do an especially good job of acting like they were unattached. The rational part of her knew that made sense, given the circumstances. But the rational part of her was not fully in control right now. She told herself that she shouldn’t be hurt by this, should see it only as a matter of course, no larger than any of the other barriers they’d managed to circumvent before. But no matter how many times she repeated it in her mind, she couldn’t manage to quite feel convinced. Couldn’t manage to stop thinking that she’d been a fool to see this as any sort of happy ending, any sort of reward. She’d been a fool to think that she could have Kai as anything other than a professional partner, too. The stakes were simply too high, especially for him. He’d said it himself, after all -- his father’s opinion was the _most_ important thing to him. She’d clearly been deluding herself to think she could be all right with that.

“I’ll take the first floor,” she said flatly, congratulating herself on the fact that her voice didn’t crack or shake.

Kai frowned, brow furrowing. “Are you sure? The first floor living space is -- much smaller than the others.”

“As if your father would approve of my leaving you with the smallest room in the house?” She sniffed dismissively. “I’ll take the first floor. It isn’t as if I’ve ever gotten accustomed to living in luxury.”

Kai opened his mouth, then closed it again and nodded. “As you wish.”

“Well,” Bradamant said with completely insincere cheeriness, “good that’s decided, then.”

“We’ve designated all the rooms,” said Irene. “I think we’re done here for today. Or at least I am.” She turned and made for the door before anyone else had a chance to object.


	4. Chapter 4

“Irene,” Kai attempted for the third time since they’d gotten into the cab. 

“Not now,” she said again, no less sharply than any of the other times. She was looking resolutely at the buildings that lined the street, though the motion of it was making her feel vaguely ill. A part of her had actually been tempted to get a cab by herself, to force him to either remain at the soon-to-be embassy with the others for a while longer or get back on his own. He’d been right behind her, though, and although Bradamant hadn’t followed, she was certainly watching. Irene could only imagine the gossip that would have gotten back to the Library had she refused to let him follow her into the cab. 

Unfortunately by the time she’d finished running through that cycle of thoughts for the umpteenth time, they were arriving at home -- Or soon-to-be not-home, she amended sourly. She continued to avoid Kai’s gaze as he got out of the cab, and ignored his offered hand as well when he tried to help her down. She was already turning her key in the lock by the time he’d finished paying the driver and caught up to her again. 

“Don’t you think Vale will be wondering where you’ve got to?” she asked over her shoulder, not turning to look at him. A part of her wanted to refuse him entry entirely, wanted to shut the door in his face and use the Language to seal it tight against anything he might be able to do. Another part of her thought _that_ part had gone completely insane, but the former was winning out. 

“No,” Kai said flatly. “I think he’s still sleeping off the past week. You know how he is after a case.”

That same part of her mind that wanted to slam the door searched for a sharp retort and came up blank. Sighing, she stepped into the entryway, letting him follow. This was exactly the sort of emotional display that she _loathed_ , she thought as she took off her outer garments and practically threw them at the coat rack. She loathed it and yet once she found herself in this place, it was so very hard to escape. On the rational level of her mind, she was aware that he had _just_ asked her for a commitment the night before, that he had made the same one himself. She was aware that she had agreed to tell him about fears like the ones she was having right now, to let him help. But the rational part was not in charge at the moment, had long since ceded control to her lizard brain. Which was really damned ironic considering a dragon was the root of all her problems right now. 

“Irene, I’m sorry,” said Kai, though when she chanced a glance at him, she saw in his expression that he meant much more than he was able to say. He hung up his own coat and took a step closer, then paused when she stiffened and held up a hand as if in surrender. “That wasn’t -- how I wanted things to go.”

She laughed bitterly. “Oh, wasn’t it? I had no idea.”

He sighed. “I let Silver get under my skin. I lost my temper and it put you in a bad position. You don’t have to accept my apology right now, but I _am_ sorry.”

It was a good apology. It was mature and insightful and she absolutely hated it. “What bad position?” she asked with a cheeriness in her tone that was blatantly insincere. “I didn’t notice any bad position.”

“The bedrooms,” said Kai, still managing to look and sound far calmer than he had any right to. “I had intended for us to share one of the upper floors. Assuming that was also what you wanted, of course.”

“Why on earth would you intend that?” she asked, the words dripping with condescension she absolutely didn’t feel. What she _did_ feel was the same dread that had filled her as she had become aware that he was going to resign from his Library post, the same grief that had come when she’d returned to these very lodgings to find him and his things gone. She was going to lose him, still, because it was inevitable. Only now it hurt worse because she had allowed herself to believe otherwise for a little while. “You have to know how bad that might look for you politically.”

“Irene.” It was that particular way he said her name, like it was the most meaningful word he’d ever uttered in any language, and it always managed to twist something deep inside of her chest. “ _You_ have to know you’re more important to me than politics.”

“I don’t know.” She crossed her arms, aware that she had tipped over into outright childishness but entirely unable to stop herself. All of it was just too much, the control she normally prided herself upon eroded to the point of total exhaustion. “ _You_ were the one who recently said your father’s opinion was the _most_ important thing to you. I think I understand your priorities now. Foolish of me to take so long figuring it out.”

She’d thrown that last like a harpoon, and was momentarily gratified when Kai looked taken aback, actually rocked back on his heels a bit. But it wasn’t the result of painful truth sinking in. It was honest shock. “Irene. You think that -- _what_?”

“You heard me,” she insisted, sure that he had. She knew how to read his reaction, or at least thought she did: babbling like this meant he was beyond the level of stress where his speech tended to get extremely formal. But it still didn’t mean that he hadn’t understood.

“I did,” he acknowledged. “It’s just -- Irene.” He broke off and took a step closer, resting both hands on her upper arms before running them down to unpeel her fingers from where they were clenched and gently lace them with his. 

She allowed it, but glared at him the whole time. “What? You are using a lot of very incomplete sentences.”

The corners of his lips twitched as though he wanted to smile, but there was still pain in his eyes. “I’m sorry, Irene. You are the strongest person I have ever met. I knew that you had -- reservations, but I didn’t realize how afraid you actually were.”

“I am not --” she started, and then stopped herself with great effort. Her heart was pounding as though she had just run several flights of stairs, and the vague sense of nausea she’d felt in the cab had gotten even stronger. She wanted to tell him that he was wrong, wanted to stay angry. She wanted to put all of the walls back up inside of her head and her heart, to metaphorically slam half a dozen doors in his face if she couldn’t do it with the real one. But she couldn’t, of course. Or -- _wouldn’t_ to be more precise. This was the exact sort of thing that had led to the collapse of so many of her relationships, both romantic and otherwise. It was also the exact thing she’d promised him she’d work on just last night. And she’d _meant_ it then, so she owed it to him now. If she was going to lose him, she was going to do her damnedest to make sure it wasn’t her own fault.

“You’re not?” Kai prompted. He was still holding both of her hands, running his thumbs along the backs of them, so much tenderness in such a simple gesture that it was nearly overwhelming.

“I am apparently not using complete sentences either,” she managed at last and felt the tension break between them. All of the fear and regret she’d been feeling was still there, but the anger had faded.

This time Kai actually did smile, though gingerly. “Well, fortunately for you, I am _not_ a Librarian.”

“And that’s part of the problem, isn’t it?” she asked, feeling a renewed swell of grief at the memory of his resignation, at the thought of how different everything had been since then. She had always known that their days in that arrangement had been limited, either because his family would have decided to remove him or because he would have finished his training and moved on to being a Librarian in his own right. But still, she’d hoped that they might have lasted a bit longer, especially now, in retrospect.

“I don’t know,” Kai said honestly. “This certainly wasn’t what I had initially hoped for either of us, but -- It seems to me that we’ve recently been assigned to work together again. We’ve even been assigned to live together. Granted, it’s experimental, but can we be sure it’s not better than if I’d been getting sent off on my own solo field missions?”

She sucked in a breath and forced herself to hold it for several beats before blowing it back out again. Then she did it a second time, looking down at their feet and noticing that of course his shoes were both more stylish and more recently polished than her own. At least _that_ didn’t seem likely to ever change. Finally, feeling only the smallest bit steadier, she forced herself to look back up and meet his gaze again. Taking on twenty werewolves by herself would have felt easier at the moment. “Kai. I have never -- _never in my life_ \-- gotten to hold onto any good thing that came my way. There’s always been another mission, another achievement, another insurmountable reason why people who live a life like mine are just plain expected to make sacrifices. And you just might be the _best_ thing that’s ever come into my life, so pardon me if I’m a bit paranoid.” She was vaguely aware that her voice had risen on that last until it was skirting the edge of petulance again. But it was either that or break down entirely, and she was _not_ about to do _that_ again in less than twenty-four hours. 

He was silent and still for a pause that stretched out between them and in which it felt like neither of them breathed. Then all at once, he let go of her hands and threw his arms around her. Irene returned the embrace at once, fully aware of how strange it was to be clinging to him now when she’d been fantasizing about slamming the door in his face only minutes before. Of course, if she was being honest with herself, she knew that clinging to him was what she had truly wanted to do all along.

“I’m sorry,” she breathed against his shoulder, and hoped that this was one apology he wouldn’t try to prevent her from making. It wasn’t a deflection or self-flagellation; it was sincere and it was necessary. “I know that I can’t keep doing this. I don’t _want_ to keep doing this. You deserve so much better.”

He pulled back the slightest bit, studied her for a moment, and then nodded. “I’ll accept that. But -- Do you really think _I’m_ not afraid of losing _you_ , Irene?”

She smiled mirthlessly. “I don’t know. You’re not the one who was just competing with Silver for dramatics today.” That was a deflection, but the unmistakable glint of humor she saw in his eyes was more than worth it.

“I hate to break it to you,” said Kai, “but you’re not remotely in the same league as Silver when it comes to dramatics. In fact, I’m not sure you’re even in the same alternate.”

She feigned outrage, doing her best to glare at him and not laugh, some of the weight of the morning beginning to lift. “How dare you!” 

“And yet I do dare, madam.” He kissed her forehead lightly and then released her. “How about we go upstairs? Unless you’ve decided that you particularly like standing in the entryway. It is a very nice one of those.”

Irene rolled her eyes. “Sadly not to be our very nice entryway much longer.” She didn’t wait for him to respond before heading to the stairs.

“It hasn’t been _our_ entryway in weeks,” Kai muttered behind her. His tone wasn’t happy, but when she glanced at him over her shoulder, his face was impassive. 

They settled together on the couch in the lounge by unspoken agreement. In nearly a year of living here together, Irene had never allowed herself even to sit beside him on it despite the fact that there was plenty of room to do so without being overly close. The idea of it had seemed a strangely intimate act, somehow: a temptation, a relaxing of the boundaries she’d been trying so carefully to keep between them. Now she was struck by the way it felt almost luxurious to sit curled against his side, to be as close to him as she had wanted for so long. There was a threadbare blanket hung along the back of it that frequently got used by whomever had commandeered this spot for late evening reading, and Kai pulled it down now, wrapping it around both of them. When their eyes met again, there was such tender reverence in his face that it made her breath catch in her throat. He closed his eyes and rested his forehead against hers for a long moment, breath warm on her skin. 

“Earlier,” she said after a while in silence, “you said that you’re afraid too. Actually, you said it yesterday as well and I -- Did you want to talk about it? This shouldn’t only be about me.”

“I don’t want to.” He shifted to rest his chin on the top of her head. “But you did, so I will.”

She rested a hand on his knee and squeezed it lightly in encouragement. Kai made a soft sound in the back of his throat and pulled her closer still, clearly trying to steady himself. Irene kissed the side of his throat, realizing that she could feel his pulse racing against her lips. 

“All right,” he said at last. “I suppose -- to start with the obvious, Ao Ji nearly killed you. If it hadn’t been for Li Ming and Silver, he _would have_ killed you. And you were only in that position because I didn’t want to believe you, because I left you to prove his betrayal on your own.” His voice had developed a rough edge to it, a reminder that those events were still very fresh.

Her instinct was to protest again, to tell him that it hadn’t been his fault, that he wasn’t responsible for his uncles’ actions and wouldn’t have even _been_ present to assist her had she not involved him in the first place. But she’d invited him to talk and it was clearly taking all of the willpower he had to do it. She resolved not to interrupt yet.

Kai met her eyes for a moment, seemed to understand, and pushed on. “Before that, I failed to protect you from Hu -- from being shot. And I wasn’t even able to _be there_ for you afterward. Do you have any idea what that was like, worrying that you wouldn’t live and that your last memory of me would be that I’d resigned my post and pretended not to care?”

“I knew you cared,” said Irene, despite her resolution to remain silent. That had required a response. “I have never doubted that you cared.” She kept her hand on his knee but pulled back just enough to see his face, which of course was filled with anguished guilt.

“Irene, I know that you trust me,” he said sadly. “I know that you have faith in me, despite your own fears. I want to deserve that. But I have _never_ in my life been enough for _anyone_. That is what I was born into.”

“Kai,” she breathed, heart aching for him. It wasn’t as if she didn’t _know_ everything he’d just said. She’d intuited as much even before the recent revelations about his family, even before she’d seen the way he was treated firsthand. But hearing him say it, when he so seldom put these sorts of thoughts into words, hurt on an entirely different level. 

“Now I’ve got you, this new position, and my father’s respect.” He swallowed with effort. “And I am so afraid of failing, of losing anything -- most of all you. I worry that I am too inexperienced, too -- too insignificant to fill all the roles I’ve been given.”

Irene was struck at once by how similar that confession was to her own fears. True, it was framed a bit differently, given his culture and perspective, but the parts that mattered were the same. She was also afraid of failing, of losing him, of getting a taste of happiness only to have it cruelly snatched away. And she, too, worried that she would be incapable of fulfilling all of the expectations. She’d been struggling with the idea that she was no longer his superior, no longer responsible for him. With the idea that she had to start trusting his autonomy and his own expertise. But in this way, she realized, they were truly equals -- and as terrible as it might be to acknowledge that neither one of them felt truly prepared for any of this, it was also a strange sort of relief. 

“Well,” she said at last, choosing her words carefully, “then I suppose it’s a good thing you’ve got a partner to do it with you.”

Kai made a ragged sound as he lunged to kiss her, fingers curling into her hair. Irene returned it eagerly, sliding a hand around the back of his neck to pull him closer. Saying that last had been a gamble, another of the risks she was beginning to allow herself to take with him. And now clearly it had paid off, had been exactly what he’d needed to hear when she’d failed to give him the same so many times before.

“You know,” he said a bit breathlessly as they broke apart, “I’ve been wanting to do that for months.”

Irene arched an eyebrow, feeling off-balance, like she wasn’t quite following him. “What, kiss me? I believe you _have_ done that a few times recently.”

“No.” His expression was lightening by the moment, edging toward a self-satisfied smirk as he tucked a bit of hair behind her ear. “Kiss you here. On this sofa.” He did it again, only lingering for a moment this time before pulling back to watch her reaction.

“Kai,” she said archly, “are you telling me that you’ve been fantasizing about me? With specific backdrops and settings?” It _was_ a bit surprising to hear him admit to a detail like this, though it wasn’t as though he’d ever been shy about his desire to progress their relationship to -- well, _this_ level. 

“I have no idea what you mean,” he said, deadpan, and kissed her again quickly. “I have _never_ thought about kissing you here, or in the kitchen, and _definitely_ not in either of our bedrooms.” 

Sitting curled against his side had been nice, she decided, but right now it left a lot to be desired, namely that it limited the ways she was able to touch him. Shifting her weight, she moved to straddle his lap, gratified when one of his hands immediately went to her lower back to support her. 

“In that case,” said Irene, “I have never had any of those thoughts either. That would have been entirely inappropriate.” At the time, of course, it _had_ been inappropriate and she had felt suitably guilty about it. A part of her _still_ felt guilty about it, but...that seemed rather a wasted effort given the way things were turning out. 

“Well, that’s to be expected.” His tone had taken on the affected formality it often did when he was being intentionally seductive. She had experienced it plenty of times, of course, but it still made her cheeks flush and her stomach do a stupid little flip like something out of the most cliche romance. “I can’t imagine _you_ having those kind of thoughts. You’ve always been _far_ too proper and responsible for that.”

She felt the heat in her cheeks deepen. She knew he was teasing, but it still connected with that part of her that wanted to insist any emotions of this sort were wrong. “I feel like I owe you an apology for it, you know. In all seriousness.”

Kai arched an eyebrow. “For being proper and responsible? Well, if you _insist_...”

Irene rolled her eyes, the shame that had been trying to overwhelm her only moments before flipping over into affectionate irritation immediately. Perhaps that had even been his intention. “No, and you know it. For having -- inappropriate thoughts about you, as my student.”

“And why would those thoughts have been inappropriate?” he pressed, for a moment sounding as if he was the teacher now. “Or any more inappropriate than my having the same ones?”

“I haven’t said yours _weren’t_ inappropriate,” she pointed out.

He snorted. “Fair point. But Irene -- I’m serious. I’m an adult and I’d made it clear that I wanted the same things you did, probably even more. Sexual relationships between individuals of different status are common and perfectly accepted among my kind. And as far as I know, there’s nothing in the Library’s regulations that prohibits them between Librarians, including mentors and students.”

“True,” she allowed. That sort of relationship was, in fact, relatively common and certainly lacked the taboo it would have had in more traditional educational settings. But still, she _knew_ the ways it could go wrong for all of the reasons that had prevented her from acting on those desires with Kai. She cared far too much about him to risk that. “But _I_ still would have felt I was taking advantage.”

“And you didn’t.” His tone was firm, but his expression was soft. “Not once. Irene, you have always given me more autonomy, more responsibility, more -- more _value_ than anyone else in my life.”

He was right, and she knew it. Just because she’d seen the downside -- the absolutely toxic, repugnant downside -- of that sort of relationship, it didn’t mean _theirs_ would be the same. “I still don’t like the idea of romantic or sexual relationships between Librarians and subordinates as a general rule. But -- I suppose I can see how we might be an exception.”

Kai laced their fingers and held their joined hands up between their faces. “Well, _you_ certainly are exceptional. And _we_ are supposed to be ushering in a new chapter of history with the treaty, so…”

“So most likely we’ve earned a pass,” said Irene. The guilt was still there at the back of her mind, still eating away, though more slowly than before. But she would do her best to believe him, and she knew he was sincere.

“With honors,” said Kai, and kissed her hand. “Though if there’s anything I can do to help you feel comfortable, please tell me. I know that I’ve been pushing you and I don’t -- ever want to overstep.”

“Kai…” Irene caught her breath, finding it difficult to form words beyond his name for what felt like the dozenth time in recent days. That last was the crux of it -- that he _always_ worked to make sure she was comfortable, that she had what she needed. When he did push, it was generally for her own good. And even regarding their relationship, was it really any different? She’d declined his offers and suggestions, certainly, but she also wasn’t under any illusions that she’d been subtle about her desire to accept. That had been the whole problem, and still was in some ways -- everything he’d done to care for her, to put her at ease, had also made her feel guilt for wanting it, had made her fear for what had seemed the inevitable loss of him. 

“Irene?” he asked gently, his thumb stroking along the back of her hand now.

“Just -- help me remember that I can have this,” she said at last, squeezing his hand lightly. Even that felt like a dangerous request, like admitting the sort of weakness that could be exploited, but trusting him was the _point_. “That it isn’t too good to be true.”

“I can do that,” he agreed. “And it isn’t.” He shifted his arms around her, urging her closer, and she allowed herself to relax, leaning her weight against him, head on his shoulder. 

He kissed her temple, lingering with his lips there as he ran a hand through her hair and then down over her back. Her mind was still spinning, the day -- no, the past stretch of days -- had been a whirlwind, and her nerves still felt hopelessly frayed. She could only imagine how _he_ must be feeling, given everything he’d been through. His body was warm against hers as always, though, his hands steady against her back. Starting at her shoulders, he worked the tension from her muscles. There was an undeniable, overwhelming tenderness to it -- she could _feel_ all of the things that neither of them was ready to say in it, everything they _could_ have if the worlds would let them. 

Almost without thinking about it, she realized that she’d begun rocking her hips against him and felt his body responding. He was already hard, his breath coming faster, though his focus on her didn’t falter. Pressing a kiss to the hollow behind his ear, she slipped a hand between them, undoing his belt and then his trousers, palming his erection lightly and drawing a groan from the back of his throat. 

“Irene?” he prompted, and she knew what he was asking. She nodded, hitched her skirts to one side, and lifted her hips, allowing him to help her out of her underwear. He kept a hand on her shoulder as she did the same for him, careful as always. 

Irene kissed him as she sank down onto him, swallowing the sound that he made. All at once the desperation that she’d felt in him earlier came rushing back, all of the need she’d sensed when he’d talked about his fears and when she’d called herself his partner. He clung to her as they moved together, every bit as fast and intense as he’d been slow and gentle just moments before. This was the side of him that he so rarely let anyone see, she knew, but he trusted _her_ with it. That was still the dominant thought in her mind when she came, intensified by the way his whole body shuddered with his own orgasm, by the way he buried his face in the crook of her neck.

They were both silent for a long while after that, aside from the sounds of their ragged breathing. Kai kept his arms around her, gradually beginning to rub her shoulders again, and she allowed herself to be soothed by it, by the feeling of being together in this moment. 

“We’re in charge of the embassy, right?” he asked finally, the abrupt return to their earlier conversation a bit dizzying. “We get to make the decisions. That’s the point.”

Irene blinked at him, trying to bring enough of her mind back online to form thoughts. “Yes?”

“So that means we can change our minds too,” said Kai. His hand was still playing along her back, warm even through all her layers of clothing. “Share the second floor with me. Please.”

She wanted it -- so badly that it was frightening in the same way as so many other aspects of their relationship. It still felt dangerous, though, and she was mindful of the fact that more than anything else, she didn’t want to lose him. “Are you sure? I meant what I said about the political aspects of it. I don’t want to put you in a bad position.”

“There are two bedrooms on each floor, right?” said Kai. “So as far as anyone else is concerned, we’re not sharing a bed or even a room. We’ll be discrete. But Irene -- my family isn’t stupid. Whether they’ll say it or not, they already know.”

She took a breath, considering that. On some level, she knew he was right. _She_ wasn’t stupid either, and she knew they had allowed their relationship to become fairly obvious. 

“It’s not too good to be true,” he prompted after a moment. “And I need you.”

“All right,” she said finally, then realized that was inadequate, that it sounded reluctant in a way she most certainly didn’t feel. “Yes, I want that.”

His smile at that was as warm as the rest of him, obvious relief softening his eyes. “Good. Thank you.”

Abruptly she was reminded of what he’d said of his own fears, and the way he’d reacted to the reminder that he wasn’t expected to do this alone. Leaning in again, she kissed him gently, both a promise and a reassurance. “So. I believe there were a few more things you said you’ve been thinking of doing?”

Kai’s expression shifted to a smirk, though it was no less pleased. “There were. Did you want me to show you?”

“Well,” said Irene, “we might as well take advantage while we still live here…”


	5. Chapter 5

Two days was apparently an adequate time period for Vale to sleep off a case, because he was awake and dressed when they arrived at his lodgings. In fact, he must have seen their cab approaching, because he was already there at the door, opening it to greet them. Kai had his key out, apparently having assumed otherwise, and he looked taken aback at not needing to use it.

“I thought perhaps the two of you had made off to another of your alternate worlds,” Vale said a bit sardonically by way of greeting.

“What, and leave everything in your spare room?” Kai appeared to realize what he’d just said a moment later and flushed. “I mean -- and without saying goodbye to you, of course? That would be -- out of character for us, or at least I’d hope you’d think so.”

He was babbling in the way that he only did when he was truly distressed, and although she wasn’t sure what it said about her as a person, Irene couldn’t help finding it both amusing and endearing in these circumstances. He’d appeared to be unconcerned about what Vale would think of his absence until approximately the past hour, at which point it had become apparent that he _was_ in fact worried that it would be perceived as rudeness or abandonment despite having wanted to be otherwise occupied. If she knew Vale, though…

“I think you’re missing the most important point,” said Irene, fairly certain that she could see the hint of amusement in Vale’s eyes, that he was toying with them. “I promised to cause this world trouble for a while longer, and Vale knows that I am a woman of my word.”

“Indeed,” Vale agreed, his stoic expression giving way to a smile. “In fact, Strongrock, I assumed that you _would_ be gone for a day or two, but not more than that because -- as you’ve just so adeptly demonstrated -- your sense of propriety would intervene. I also anticipated that Winters would be with you, since there’s no longer any reason for her _not_ to be. Which is not to say that I’m not pleased to see you both.”

Kai sighed, looking equal parts relieved and irritated. “May we come in? We brought dinner. Or what will be dinner shortly.” He gestured to the bags from the shopping trip they’d made on the way over. 

“Well, since you’ve brought an offering,” said Vale, and stepped back from the door, watching them enter. It was nearly impossible to be in his presence and not have the occasional thought about what he might be observing, no matter how much she cared about and trusted him.

Kai was still noticeably tense as they hung up their coats and hats, apparently still concerned that he’d managed to offend Vale. He had always been concerned with proper courtesy, and knowing what she did now about his family, Irene couldn’t help feeling that she understood his apprehension about that sort of transgression. She paused to rest a hand on his arm as she made her way toward Vale’s drawing room, meeting his eyes in what she hoped he’d read as reassurance. He offered her a small smile, then followed. 

“You know your way around the kitchen,” Vale told him, resuming the seat he’d apparently just vacated at the table in order to let them in. There were several newspapers and a pile of correspondence piled on it, no doubt information he was catching up on after having been away from this alternate. “Though feel free to sit down first, if you’d like.”

Kai shook his head. “Thank you, but I’ll get to work.”

Irene followed him into the kitchen, surprised by the fact that he hadn’t visibly relaxed yet, couldn’t quite seem to find the easy demeanor he usually had around Vale. 

“Are you all right?” she asked quietly, as he began unpacking ingredients - meat and an impressive assortment of vegetables -- onto the counter. 

“Yes.” He ducked to retrieve a pan from a lower shelf, conveniently avoiding her eyes. “What reason would I have to not be all right?”

Irene sighed. His sudden evasiveness was frustrating, but it was also familiar. And it wasn’t as though she couldn’t relate. “That’s what I’m trying to ask you.”

“I’m fine,” he said unconvincingly, “though wine would make a nice accompaniment to cooking.”

She shook her head and decided to take that cue for the moment, busying herself with opening bottles and filling glasses. She wasn’t going to push him to the point of an argument now, though she certainly _would_ find out what was going on eventually.

“I take it the two of you talked,” Vale commented, as she came over to hand him a glass of wine. He was working half-heartedly on a letter now, and she would have been tempted to glance at it had that statement not so thrown her off balance.

“What?”

“You and Strongrock,” he said pointedly. His voice was intentionally low, a half-hearted attempt at privacy, though with his draconic senses, Kai could probably listen in if he wanted to and Vale was undoubtedly aware of it. 

“Well,” she said evasively, not because she didn’t trust him but because she wasn’t sure what he was getting at. And because there were some things that were difficult for her to discuss at all, let alone with someone as perceptive as Vale. “We have _conversed_ in the time that we were gone, if that’s what you mean. My voice appears to have mostly recovered, as you might have noticed.”

“I did notice,” he agreed, looking at her with his familiar sharp scrutiny. On anyone else, it would seem judgmental, but she knew that was the look he had when he was analyzing a person or a situation. Ironically, judgment might have been preferable at the moment. “But I meant to say that you appear to have discussed the rather obvious -- _evolution_ of your relationship.”

“You know the status of our relationship,” said Irene, wishing that she had brought her own wine glass in from the kitchen. It was tempting to take back the one she had just given to Vale and down it herself. “You know that’s why he’s been living in your guest room. And why everyone in Paris assumed that he was seducing me -- or the opposite, in some cases.”

“I meant _since_ Paris,” said Vale, taking a sip of the wine and casually moving the glass out of easy reach. She couldn’t tell if he’d anticipated her thoughts about taking it back or if it was merely coincidence. With him, she could never discount possibility.

She sighed. “We’re fine.”

Vale nodded. “To my point: You do both appear to be in significantly better spirits than the last time I saw you, which is why I was under the assumption that you had talked and worked things out, so to speak. It’s been clear for the past few weeks that things were at a difficult point between the two of you. It’s had a detrimental effect on both of you, but especially Strongrock. I had intended to mention that to you if things hadn’t improved. I take it now they have.”

"Are you giving me relationship advice?" she asked incredulously, trying to swallow down her rising guilt. 

"No," said Vale. "I'm telling you what advice I would have given you. Fortunately you no longer appear to need it."

She gaped at him for a moment, the guilt joined with incredulity and righteous anger. He was correct, of course. He was generally _always_ correct about his conjectures, because he was this world’s greatest detective, as she was so often reminded. But he was even more frequently correct about his conjectures regarding his friends, and though Irene didn’t find them directed at her very often, right now she absolutely hated the vulnerability of it. She hadn’t just treated Kai badly, she knew, but she had done it out of fears that she didn’t ever want to admit to having. All at once, her mind was approaching this like a mission, like a minor disaster coming up in the field. She found herself running through all of her options for extracting herself from this conversation.

“What are you, a psychologist now?” she asked tartly, choosing to go with the anger. It was easier than any of the other emotions.

“A detective,” said Vale, as though he’d never told her that before in his life. “So yes, essentially.”

Irene rolled her eyes, struggling to hold onto the conviction of her irritation. It wasn’t like Vale to initiate conversations like this -- if anything, he tried to avoid personal relationships he viewed as having the potential to become complicated or messy. But he cared about Kai and he cared about her, or they wouldn’t all be here together after all the disasters of the past few months. It was difficult to resent his attempt at help, even if it meant having all of her least favorite flaws laid out and examined on a metaphorical dissecting table. 

“We talked, as you surmised,” said Irene. “I expect that we’ll continue talking.”

Vale nodded, but he still looked unsettled. For a moment Irene couldn’t help expecting a lecture from him, or perhaps the sorts of outright accusations she’d been making of herself in her own mind. Instead, he asked, “And Strongrock? Is he all right?”

For a moment Irene gaped at him, entirely disoriented. Her train of thought was still on the conversation thus far, reeling as she tried to account for how he’d come to the conclusion that things between them were ever _that bad_.

“His uncle did try to have him killed,” Vale added, apparently realizing his mistake. “And he certainly _wasn’t_ all right on the last night of the peace conference.” When Ao Ji had tried to kill them all. When Kai had admitted to feeling like death was the least painful option.

Irene considered, choosing her words carefully. “He’s -- processing things. As I imagine we all are.”

“You know,” Kai interrupted from the kitchen, “it’s an actual effort not to listen to you talking about me. If you’re going to keep it up, I’ll be needing something stronger than wine.”

Vale huffed a laugh at that and shook his head, his expression unmistakably indicating that that remark had confirmed one or more unspoken hypotheses he’d been harboring. Irene shot him a long-suffering look and went back to the kitchen, only half relieved to be escaping the conversation she would have done almost anything to end only moments ago.

She went straight to Vale’s liquor cabinet and fetched the brandy along with two glasses, pouring a healthy amount into each. Crossing the small space to the stove, she offered one to Kai and kept the other for herself.

“Does this mean you’re planning to continue talking about me?” He took the glass from her and downed it in a single swallow.

Deciding that felt appropriate, Irene did the same, then grimaced as her throat reminded her that it wasn’t _entirely_ healed yet even if her voice had stopped cracking in every conversation. Still, it was worth it. “That depends.”

He was in the process of searing meat in a hot pan, but he spared a moment to turn his head and quirk an eyebrow at her. “On?”

“Whether you tell me what’s bothering you,” said Irene, aware that she was manipulating him and deciding that for the moment she didn’t care. If it allowed her to help him, then it was worthwhile. 

“Other than the fact that you and Vale are talking about me in a way that makes it difficult not to overhear?” he deflected, though it was clear he wasn’t any more than slightly annoyed about that. And his irritation seemed to stem mainly from wanting credit for _not_ eavesdropping rather than from any objection to the conversation itself.

“You know,” said Irene, “if you can hear the conversation, that makes it fair game. I’m surprised, with all your recent subterfuge experience, that you wouldn’t jump at the chance to listen in.”

Kai made a face. “That’s different. You’re my friends, not marks.” He paused, reconsidering. “Well, Vale is my friend. You’re…” He trailed off, clearly wanting her to fill the gap, possibly for her own comfort.

It was a considerate gesture, just one of the many things he did to make her comfortable, she knew, and yet she couldn’t help being momentarily irritated by having the responsibility. For a moment she considered any number of sarcastic remarks, then dismissed them. She owed him sincerity. “Your lover.” It was the first time either of them had said it aloud, and she saw the impact written all over his face.

He swallowed visibly, though his gaze was still cast firmly toward the pan, his movements precise as he worked. “Yes. And so -- I owe you and Vale the respect of not listening, even if it takes effort and even if I might find it unnerving.”

Irene softened and stepped closer, rubbing his back as affection for him warmed her far more than any drink ever could. “We’re just worried about you. It wasn’t exactly a relaxing week.”

“I’m fine,” Kai repeated unsurprisingly, but he closed his eyes for a moment at her touch. 

For a while he worked in silence, the only sounds those of food being prepared. He’d shifted the pan off the heat for the moment and was deftly chopping vegetables. Irene leaned against the counter, drinking wine and watching him. There was a part of her that still felt strange about failing to offer help, but Kai had made it clear early on in their friendship that he preferred company in the kitchen to active assistance. He was particular about his work, and he was _good_ at it in a way she could never hope to replicate.

“I couldn’t protect him either,” Kai said at last, timing that confession just as he returned to working at the stove and was conveniently unable to meet her eyes.

“Vale?” asked Irene, though she knew the answer.

He nodded, the pan sizzling as he added vegetables to it. The smells were getting distracting, but Irene resolved to stay focused. “Not against the Countess and not against my lord uncle. He didn’t just witness my disgrace, he nearly lost his life to it.”

“And you haven’t talked to him since,” said Irene, the pieces beginning to fall together. They had all talked _some_ , of course, including when Kai had carried them back to this world. But they had all been in a state of exhausted shock, barely scratching the surface of processing any of what had happened. 

“I don’t regret staying with you,” he said quickly, clearly worried about offending her as well. He was still so on-edge that it was almost painful to watch. “I don’t regret -- the way that things are turning out. But it’s like I said, nothing will ever be the same again.”

And that was the whole problem, neatly summed up in a single sentence. Irene took a sip of her wine and steadied herself. This was exactly the sort of change that had been unnerving her, that had led her to panic at the embassy. But this was not about her right now. “And it wasn’t just the Countess or the fight, was it. Vale met some of your family. He saw the way the -- less sympathetic ones treat you.”

He flinched unmistakably at that, a full body movement, and Irene reached out to rub his back again, feeling guilty, though she hadn’t meant it unkindly. “I don’t -- want to speak ill of my family any more than I already have today.” But that was acknowledgement enough.

“All right,” she allowed. “Just -- remember that we care about you, all right? Both of us. _That_ hasn’t changed and it isn’t going to.”

“This is ready,” said Kai, gesturing to the food. It was convenient timing again, and it was hard not to suspect that he’d done it on purpose. Still, the meal _did_ appear ready to serve, and extremely appealing at that. It wasn’t just that Kai was extremely skilled in the kitchen, or that he seemed to put some of the emotions he wasn’t able to articulate into the meals that he prepared. It was also the simple fact that he had an impressive collection of spices and condiments utterly foreign to this world, purchased or stolen from other alternates.

“I know that you heard what I said,” Irene told him, and busied herself getting plates and utensils, assisting him in serving the meal. 

Vale had cleared the table when they returned to the drawing room, though he made no other indication that he’d been listening to their conversation in the kitchen. Of course he had been and they all knew it, but that was the sort of thing they just didn’t acknowledge.

“I fear I’ve become spoiled with you living here, Strongrock,” said Vale, looking at the food with obvious appreciation. “Going back to my own culinary skills will be a poor comparison. I assume you _are_ moving out imminently?”

“Yes,” said Kai. He wordlessly insisted on pulling out a chair for Irene before taking his own seat. “We’re expected to move into the embassy within a week, in order to be present for our duties.”

“The house was procured and is being prepared by Bradamant,” said Irene, unable to hide her expression of distaste. “And Silver is still flirting with the idea of being the Fae representative to the treaty. And everything else.”

Vale looked at both of them with an expression that was as hungry for information as it was for the actual meal. “Well, then it seems you have quite a bit to catch me up on.”

* * *

Despite the increased amount of time she had been spending at Vale’s since Kai had been staying there, Irene hadn’t actually been inside the guest room recently. She had imagined Kai living out of boxes or trunks, prepared for a quick escape on very short notice had he been discovered or ordered away by his father. She’d been picturing it as a liminal space, as unsettled as she’d been feeling about the changes in their relationship and posts.

As she was quickly realizing had been true of many things over the past few weeks, she’d been wrong about that. The room was tidy, of course -- she knew Kai well enough to understand that his sense of aesthetics extended to his living quarters, wherever they currently happened to be. But it also felt distinctly lived in, settled in the same way their lodgings had felt after a month or so of being there. He really _had_ been expecting to stay here for the foreseeable future, she thought, and that brought her equal parts guilt and relief. Fortunately, she was in rather high spirits, warmed by excellent food, better conversation, and a generous amount of wine -- so even the guilt didn’t make as much of an impact as it otherwise might have.

“Did you get all of your clothes into those before?” Irene asked skeptically. He had two large empty trunks, but the wardrobe was both larger and absolutely filled to bursting. It would clearly take much more time than they had this evening for him to pack his things completely, but given their timeline, it was necessary to start.

“Yes,” said Kai, pulling a few pairs of trousers out and laying them on the bed, apparently beginning some kind of sorting system. “Though it was a tight fit. Most things needed to be pressed when I unpacked them.”

“The horror,” Irene said dryly. She was wandering around the far side of the room, investigating the vanity. It wasn’t as though she was unaware of the sorts of personal possessions Kai had - She had spent much of the past year in the field with him, after all. Still, she felt a new and particular freedom to poke through his things now, to satisfy long-held curiosity.

“They may not all fit now, though,” said Kai, looking appraisingly between the wardrobe and the trunks, hand resting on his hip as though he might be able to discipline things into occupying a smaller space.

On the surface of the vanity was a hairbrush -- much more expensive than her own, she could tell -- along with what appeared to be two varieties of conditioning oils and several bottles of fragrance. She picked up one of the latter and twisted the cap open slightly, testing. She recognized it immediately as one of the scents she associated with Kai. It somehow managed to evoke thoughts of the shore without smelling exactly like any identifiable elements of that environment. Replacing the cap, she turned back to him. “How many clothing items have you bought since you’ve been staying here?”

He shrugged. “A few.”

“A few dozen?” The legends might be incorrect about dragons hoarding gold or treasure, but Kai certainly seemed to have a propensity toward doing it with clothes.

He snorted, finally much more relaxed than he’d been earlier in the evening. “You wound me.”

“You know I’m heartless and cruel,” she answered cheerily. It was even partly true: Kai _was_ intimately familiar with some of her less honorable tendencies, particularly when an assignment called for it. There wasn’t much else on the top of the vanity for her to explore: just a few hair ties and the small shrine she had seen a few times while they’d lived together. That _was_ something she intended to ask him about eventually, but given the events of the past week and how anxious he’d been for most of the evening, this didn’t feel like the time.

“I know you’re nothing of the sort,” Kai said firmly. He was removing more things from the wardrobe, now sorting into several piles on the bed. Irene was certain there was a classification system that made sense to him, but she couldn’t discern it. No doubt something to do types of fabric, or possibly different aspects of fashion. 

She moved over to the bedside table, inwardly cursing Kai for being so tidy. It had made him an excellent housemate, but also much harder to observe. She _could_ go through the vanity’s drawers, she supposed. She was fairly certain he wouldn’t mind or stop her. But that also felt unnecessarily invasive, and moving house would likely involve her seeing all of his things in due course. 

There was a leather-bound notebook on the bedside table that had clearly been written in -- she could see the delineation where the pages were still pristine -- but opening it felt wrong too. Instead her attention was drawn to several loose sheets of paper partially obscured underneath it. She had absolutely no qualms about picking those up and scanning them. They were in Chinese, the writing unmistakably Kai’s. It was a set of poems, the language and imagery as precise and evocative as his visual aesthetic. She had known that he dabbled in writing poetry, primarily because he had a habit of periodically asking her to help with a particular simile or metaphor that was eluding him. But she’d never read any of his work, and this left her slightly breathless. 

Irene sensed the weight of his gaze on her and looked up, unsurprised to find him watching her intently. 

“This is lovely,” she told him sincerely, and saw the hint of a flush rise in his cheeks.

“It’s nothing,” said Kai, though he was clearly pleased by the praise. He turned and busied himself with the wardrobe again. 

Taking that lead, she carefully put the poems back where she had found them and moved to stand beside him at the wardrobe. “Do you need help?”

He shook his head, finally beginning to put things into the first trunk. “I’ve got it, thank you.”

Irene looked meaningfully back and forth between him and the sheer number of clothes to be packed. If he saw her do it, he made no acknowledgement. “You can direct me. I _am_ capable of taking direction on menial tasks, you know.”

“The fact that you view this as menial speaks volumes,” he deadpanned, running his fingers over a waistcoat as though it was a treasured pet.

She gave him a long-suffering sigh. “Just because I prefer books to clothes doesn’t mean I can’t still do a perfectly adequate job of folding.”

Kai shot her a sideways glance, eyebrow quirked skeptically. “Irene, I adore you, but I have _seen_ the way you fold clothes. And I’ll have you know that I prefer books too.”

She arranged her face into the sort of affected pout that she absolutely would never have used genuinely, swallowing down the wave of emotion the words _'adore you'_ threatened to bring on. “Fine. I see that you don’t trust me with your precious trousers.” She flung herself down on the edge of the bed in what she imagined as a good imitation of the way _he_ so often did. “I’ll let _you_ help when I pack _my_ books.”

“I’ll hold you to it,” he said, laughing. 

Silence stretched between them again, easier than it had been in a while. He looked lighter, she thought, and then considered how long it had been since she’d heard him genuinely laugh. It wasn’t as though things between them had frequently been playful -- in fact, she’d tried to limit that, because it had felt like another form of toeing the line she’d been keeping between them, another disintegration of boundaries. Still, it was undeniable that he’d been looking worn lately, had been carrying himself like a man with an undeserved amount of weight on his shoulders. He’d been doing that for her, in spite of her fears, in spite of the astronomically high potential cost to him. Watching the lines of his back under his shirt and waistcoat as he folded items from the wardrobe into the trunk, she saw everything Vale had noted. He was doing comparatively better now, to be sure, but she had allowed him to come far too close to the edge before realizing it, had nearly lost him to her own fears. 

“I’m sorry, Kai,” she said quietly, aware that it was an abrupt change of topic, but needing to say it before she could talk herself out of it again. “My conversation with Vale earlier reminded me I still owe you an apology. More than one.” 

He turned with a speed that wasn’t quite alarm, but certainly wasn’t relaxed either. “For what?”

“For -- the past few weeks,” said Irene, then realized she needed to be clearer than that. Putting these things into words was difficult, but she would do what it took to avoid hurting him more than she already had. “Before Paris. And during."

Kai shook his head. “You don’t need to apologize. You have nothing to apologize for.”

“But I do,” she said firmly. “I do and I want to give it to you, no matter what you might think of the necessity of it. I was distant, as you said. You were giving up so much to stay here with me and I couldn’t even let myself see it, only wanted to think about how to protect myself when you inevitably left. We were supposed to be equals, but I was too afraid to really let you occupy that sort of space in my life.”

“And yet you were still giving me more than anyone else ever had,” he said quietly.

“Don’t you understand?” she asked, her throat tight and her voice threatening to break again for reasons that had nothing to do with injuries. “I don’t want to be the one who does that to you. Who makes you feel -- less. You told me that you’ve been raised to feel you could never be enough, and I -- I haven’t _ever_ felt that way about you, but my own fears aren’t a reason to treat you as if I do.”

He came to the side of the bed and took both of her hands in his, looking down at her with the sort of intensity that always wrenched at something inside of her chest. “Thank you for saying that. It -- does matter, even if I might be accustomed to less.”

She rose to her feet, squeezing his hands lightly. “You deserve better than what you’re accustomed to. I _am_ going to give it to you, if it takes me the rest of my life.” The words surprised her even as she spoke them aloud, as she became aware that it was the sort of commitment she’d always avoided because it seemed so impossible for someone like her to keep. But she _did_ mean it, and really, the more she thought about what it would take for her to actually be made to break it…

“Irene,” he said softly, his eyes glistening in the dim lamp light, “despite your fears, you have always had faith in me. It’s what first caused me to fall --”

He stopped himself, his throat working visibly. They both knew what he’d been about to -- what he’d _nearly_ said, apparently without thinking. Irene was awash in a rush of adrenaline, her heart hammering in her ears. It wasn’t as if she hadn’t known, wasn’t as if she was surprised, and yet -- And yet for the first time she realized that she both wanted to hear him say it and didn’t. It felt dangerous at a level beyond anything they’d allowed themselves so far, beyond any sort of fears she was prepared to face. But it was also a commitment of its own sort, a promise, and a part of her _did_ want him to speak it into reality. Words had meaning, of course, and somehow it was even greater when they were said aloud.

Instead he kissed her, equal parts intense and achingly tender, clearly putting into it everything he was leaving unspoken. He met her eyes again when he pulled away for breath, and she nodded, silent reassurance that his choice hadn’t been a mistake. She couldn’t deny the hint of disappointment she felt at the moment passing, but mostly she just felt relief.

“You are extraordinary,” she said sincerely, resting both hands on his shoulders. The wine was still making it easier to talk, she knew, but she was fairly certain she wasn’t going to regret any of this in the morning. “I know I can’t change your family, your culture, or the way you feel about any of it. But I want you to know that’s what _I_ believe.”

Kai pulled her close, resting his head against her shoulder, breath warm on the side of her neck. “You have, though -- changed the way I feel about it. I wouldn’t be alive now if you hadn’t.”

Irene returned the embrace fiercely, knowing that he meant the fight against his uncle and the conviction he’d had that dying at the hands of an elder would have been proper conduct. She resolved again not to let herself forget how raw those wounds still were for him, how close he’d come to giving in to the pain, humiliation, and indoctrination. 

“I’m glad,” she murmured against his ear. “I know you might not thank me for it, but I’d never let you die for the honor of someone who doesn’t respect you.”

“And that’s why I --” He stopped short again, though this time it was less abrupt, less awkward. “Why I am _so_ grateful for you.” 

Irene held onto him for a long moment in silence, enjoying the warmth of his body, the steady evenness of his breathing. Finally, she forced herself to let go, aware that they were both still tired from the events of the past week, from the stress of that same morning.

“It’s getting late,” she said at last. “Do you think we should be heading back?”

Kai shrugged. “Or we could just stay here for the night.”

She hadn’t thought of that possibility, and the suggestion seemed strangely jarring now, though it wasn’t as if she hadn’t spent nights at Vale’s before. Just not...quite under these circumstances. “Both of us?”

“Well yes.” He tucked a stray piece of hair behind her ear affectionately. “Why not? Vale won’t mind. It’s not as if he doesn’t _know_ we’re together.”

Irene considered that, then nodded. He was right, of course. As he had just proven earlier, Vale knew more about their relationship than probably anyone else. Possibly even more than she’d realized about it herself. It was going to take time for her to accept that she could have this, for every bit of it to stop feeling as though she was waving a red flag at fate. But she was _going_ to get there, was going to enjoy the good things in her life or die trying. “All right. But you might have to lend me some of your precious clothes.”


	6. Chapter 6

It felt strange having a life that was established enough to require packing. Certainly she had done it between semesters at boarding school, but that had been different. There had always been a distinction between it and _home_.

 _That_ had been the Library for as long as she could remember. She’d lived with her parents -- her adoptive parents, she supposed she should think of them now, though that still stung in a completely irrational way -- in their suite of rooms as a child. They’d had a larger living area than the average Librarian, or even what was typical for those who had opted to live with a roommate. As a child she’d assumed it was because they were both incredibly accomplished, had earned the right to any preferences they chose. That had been one of the things that had driven her toward achievement -- at least until she’d gotten old enough to realize that the size of their quarters was actually because they’d been raising _her_. At the time she’d thought that must be standard too, for Librarians who had children. For others like her who’d been born into the job. But now…

Now she was _not_ going to focus on the past, she told herself, or on what Alberich and later Melusine had said. She was also not going to focus on the fact that her parents had very recently been hostages and had yet to contact her after presumably being allowed to return home. She’d even taken a brief trip to the Library that morning to check. But that wasn’t important at the moment. What _was_ important was that she finish packing up her side of what had once been their shared study. Kai’s half had been empty for weeks, of course, a fact which she was also studiously ignoring.

“Don’t jump,” he said from behind her, appearing almost as though her thoughts had somehow managed to summon him. But that was more superstitious than she’d ever be.

“What makes you worry I’d suddenly startle easily?” She was seated on the floor sorting the contents of a file drawer, a vantage point that made him look especially tall as she turned around.

Kai smirked a bit. “The fact that I’ve been standing here for nearly a minute and you’ve been too lost in thought to notice?”

“You’re not serious.” She was actually taken aback by her own ability to let her guard down that much under any circumstances. She could see in his face that he was being honest, if amused, though, and also that he knew she could tell.

“Coffee?” he asked, offering the mug and saucer he was holding.

Irene narrowed her eyes at him. “You don’t drink coffee in the afternoon unless something is wrong and you feel the need to stay especially sharp.”

“Ah, but _you_ do,” he said easily. “And seeing as how we can’t just hire movers for this, I thought you could use some.”

The immediacy and sincerity of that answer made something twist inside of her chest, and Irene took a sip of the coffee to hide it. Kai had always been excellent at showing her care like this. It was one of the things that made her fear losing him. “I’m surprised your father didn’t offer servants to assist us in moving house.”

“Oh, he did.” Kai sat gracefully on the floor across from her, straightening one of the piles of papers she’d been making. “But I didn’t think you’d want the intrusion, particularly since they’d mainly be helping with your things. Was I wrong to decline?”

“No.” As usual, he’d been incredibly insightful. “How’s the kitchen coming?”

“Finished, aside from the coffee things.” He smiled. “So now I am at your service.”

“That was fast.” Irene took a longer drink of the coffee, which was the perfect temperature and also exactly the way she took it. That shouldn’t have been a surprise, because Kai had begun learning those things about her immediately and seldom ever forgot about her habits or her preferences. It _was_ a relief though, she realized, after the distance forced between them by the past few weeks and by her own fear.

Kai shrugged. “There wasn’t all that much to pack. Which begs the question -- what _have_ you been eating the past few weeks?”

“I’ve either been in the field or taking meals with you and Vale.” She looked into her mug again to avoid his eyes. In truth, it had been toast or crackers about half of the time, accompanied by either more coffee or brandy. She had never been the best at remembering to eat -- a product of spending so many of her formative years in the Library, where it wasn’t necessary -- and she knew that she’d lost some weight.

Kai sighed. “We’re going to fix that.” He had changed into his equivalent of work clothes -- a white cotton undershirt and one of his less-formal pairs of trousers -- and his hair was pulled back into a loose ponytail rather than one of his usual intricate braids. It made him look younger than usual and also somehow more fragile. Her heart ached as she thought of his anxiety and shame, emerging so often since Paris.

“We’re both going to take better care of each other,” she said firmly, reaching out to lay a hand on his knee.

He flushed slightly, looking at her hand rather than her face. “I would certainly like that.”

“I’ll even let you pack those books,” said Irene, feigning extreme charity as she pointed at the stack. They were reference volumes, strictly speaking, and not anything particularly personal. But they were still _books_ , and that was the point. “I did promise you could help with those.”

“Indeed you did,” said Kai, smiling as he shifted to sit beside the indicated pile, putting them into a box one at a time.

Irene might be too paranoid to hire movers, but at least this alternate had managed to invent and popularize cardboard. She’d never had the experience of moving a large number of belongings in a world that hadn’t, and she hoped to keep it that way. Then again, she’d never moved a large number of belongings anywhere besides the Library, and that was back to the original point.

“Bradamant is arranging transport for our things midday tomorrow,” said Irene. “With stops both here and at Vale’s.” That information _had_ been in her email when she’d stopped into the Library. She spared a moment to feel irritated about that and to wonder what would have happened had she failed to get the message. Probably Bradamant would have shown up with the designated vehicles and made her look a fool for being unprepared. “I have no idea what the state of the new house is, but I suppose we’re about to be living there whether we like it or not.” She didn’t feel _quite_ the same level of panic as she had upon the first tour of the place, but it was still raw.

“We’ll make it work regardless,” said Kai, closing the box of books and leaning over to kiss her cheek. “Though I do wish that she had given you more time to prepare.”

“This is plenty of time,” Irene said automatically, her defensiveness flaring despite all of the many times -- including recently -- that she had resolved to be calm and rational about her dealings with Bradamant. “We’re almost finished here. Then it’s just the lounge and my bedroom. Which is mostly more books. If you hadn’t noticed, I don’t exactly have a wardrobe the size of yours.”

“Irene,” Kai said gently, in the tone that meant he was aware she was feeling threatened. “I recognize that you are capable of doing things that ought to be an absolute impossibility. I have no doubt that we can be prepared to move by the end of the day. But I also know this is difficult for you, and gods know you don’t need anything unnecessarily stressful after these past few days.”

Irene gaped at him, equal parts irritated that he would consider packing stressful for her and incredulous at _his_ concern for _her_ regarding Paris. “ _I_ don’t need more stress? _You_ were the one who--” She broke off, realizing that none of the things coming to mind would be helpful to say aloud. “I was afraid I was going to lose you, Kai. Not just your family ordering you away, but your _life._ ”

He winced and sighed. “I know that I worried you. That I gave you good reason to be worried. And I’m sorry for that, Irene. I can’t even -- you have no idea how sorry I am. But you can’t deny what _you_ have been through yourself.”

“I can deny anything I please,” Irene said tartly. Thinking about Bradamant had her feeling vulnerable enough. She didn’t need a reminder of all the ways she’d managed to worry Kai as well.

He sighed, but his face was full of affection. “All right. You are _capable_ of denying what you’ve been through. But I won’t believe you, so there’s no point.”

“I am not the one who was nearly killed!” she protested. “Several times, in fact! I am not the one who was nearly going to sacrifice myself, who --”

“Irene!” he interrupted sharply. “Are you delusional? You _quite literally_ required Silver’s powers to save your life. Not to mention all of that blood and your throat and I _still_ don’t know what you actually did but I _saw_ how weak you were after incapacitating my uncle.”

“That was a run-on sentence,” she informed him.

He growled in clear frustration, a deep guttural sound that shattered any illusion of his humanity -- not that she had any trouble remembering what he was. Especially not when it had come so very close to tearing them apart permanently. “You’re deflecting, Irene. We both know that you nearly died in Paris. At least once that you can’t deny because I was _there_. And I’m willing to bet an awful lot that it was more than that.”

“Because you’re so convinced I’m reckless,” she practically spat. She was misdirecting her anger again and knew it. It ought to be easy to let her guard drop, to accept what he was saying and appreciate his support rather than railing against it. He wasn’t even wrong -- she _was_ reckless and she _had_ had more than her share of near-death experiences lately. But admitting that felt unbearably, irrationally hard once again. Years of conditioning were insisting that she needed to be strong, needed to be composed and in control. Because of the task at hand. Because of Bradamant. Because of her parents, who might not actually be her parents at all.

Kai took a measured breath, clearly using every ounce of self-control to gather his composure. “No. Because I _know_ you, Irene, and I know how willing you are to endanger yourself for others. I know that is a part of you, and I know that I can’t ask you to change it, much as it might frighten me at times. All I ask is that you allow me to acknowledge your sacrifices. That you allow yourself to accept my support.” The corners of his lips twitched a bit as the tension broke. “And I also ask that you allow me to be irked at Bradamant on your behalf.”

Irene huffed a soundless laugh, surprised. “Oh, well. How could I refuse.” She swallowed. You aren’t wrong about the past -- well I suppose the fact that I can’t even name a specific stressful timeframe further supports your point. But I’ll admit I am -- on edge today. Packing has got me thinking about being a child in the Library. And at boarding school. That was the last time I got to have any sort of established identity in an alternate.”

Kai nodded and touched her hand. “Moving out of these lodgings doesn’t exactly raise fond memories for me either.”

“Oh,” she breathed, abruptly realizing what he meant. Kai was so graceful, so proud, and so damned _competent_ that even now, after resolving multiple times to do better, she’d managed to overlook the very genuine distress underlying his often-maddening protectiveness. Now she considered the last time he’d been here and packing, his anxiety the first time they’d returned to these lodgings together. She turned her hand palm-up in his and laced their fingers for a moment. “I suppose it wouldn’t.”

He met her gaze, the look in his eyes almost unbearably soft. “I have never doubted how capable you are, Irene. That isn’t why I want to protect you.”

“Then why?” she whispered. She believed him, of course, or she wouldn’t have accepted a relationship with him in the first place. But he was so seldom willing to discuss these things, and she needed to hear his perspective.

“Because I know the level of danger you accept for yourself,” said Kai. “Because I know how willing you are to die rather than fail in a way that harmed others. Because I can’t lose you.” His fingers tightened on hers.

Irene swallowed thickly. “I wish I could promise that you won’t.” They’d discussed this before, of course, as far back as when he’d been newly her student. Strange for that to feel so long ago now. 

“I know,” he allowed. “I know you can’t. It isn’t in your nature. And your nature is why I --” He cleared his throat. “There’s more, though. You should know that for my kind, protection is -- viewed differently than I believe it is by humans.”

“How so?” She had gotten that sense before, though she had never attempted or asked him to put it into words.

“Well, it’s…” He paused, choosing his words. “To take someone under your protection is the highest form of respect and affection. I suppose you might call it a love language of sorts, though certainly not always in a romantic sense.”

Irene gaped at him, her heart racing again. In retrospect, she could see what he’d just told her in his bearing, in all of his actions. She had known without question that she trusted Kai like no other, that she relied on him in ways that would have been unthinkable only a few months ago. And though the current iteration of their relationship was young, she had allowed him to know her on a truly intimate level for much longer. Yet this revelation, the knowledge that he had essentially been expressing his love -- of a sort-- for her on a near-daily basis was...overwhelming. It wasn’t the sort of commitment that she could match, or even come close to meeting. She simply didn’t have control over that much of her life. But then again, neither did Kai -- at least theoretically speaking -- and here he was, making the commitments and honoring them anyway. 

“You don’t have to say anything, Irene.” It wasn’t disappointment or betrayal in his face. It was guilt, and the clear belief that he’d overstepped, had violated her boundaries. He took a breath, expression trying to shift toward a facade of calm but utterly failing. “Here. How about I let you finish up your desk while I go and get started on the lounge?”

“No,” she said firmly, meeting his gaze and holding it until she was certain he appreciated her meaning. “We’ll do the rest of the house together.” She learned over and kissed him.

* * *

It was early evening by the time they’d worked their way through the rest of the study and the lounge to her bedroom. That was partly due to the fact that Kai had insisted they pause in order to have dinner at a cafe a few blocks from the house. It had been a welcome break that she never would have allowed herself, and she couldn’t be sure if it was simply his commitment to improving her health habits or whether he’d been able to tell that she was feeling overwhelmed again. Knowing Kai, it was probably both, and she was grateful regardless. Even if it meant a later night completing the packing, it was decidedly more pleasant with a full stomach and his company.

“I was thinking,” said Kai, as he poked around her wardrobe. It had seemed only natural to assign him that as a first category to pack. Besides which, unlike him, she was the least attached to her clothes out of all the categories of bedroom items. She had to admit that as much as she’d enjoyed poking around his room at Vale’s, she now found herself feeling decidedly exposed and vulnerable.

“You do that frequently,” she interjected before Kai had a chance to finish his sentence. She was packing books off the large shelf next to her bed, which was the second least intimate category of belongings, despite her incredibly high regard for them. Besides which, Kai was already thoroughly familiar with both her literary preferences and her lack of regard for fashion sense.

He sighed, feigning annoyed resignation. “Well, I suppose I should be grateful that you didn’t say you were _surprised_ that I’d been thinking.”

Irene looked up so that he could see her rolling her eyes. “I know you far better than that.”

The flush that rose on his cheeks was subtle, but she could still see it from across the small room. “I was _thinking_ that our new roles as treaty representatives ought to warrant some new garments.”

Irene laughed, unable to help herself. “What? _You_ think that you need to further expand your already-expansive wardrobe? Did you even need an actual excuse for that?”

Kai shook his head; he’d apparently decided on categories for her clothing and was now making neat piles on the bed as he’d done with his own things at Vale’s. “I don’t _need_ an excuse or justification. But as dragon representative, there will be certain expectations of me. Even moreso given my...status within the family, and the fact that there will no doubt be at least some rumors circulating about the events of the peace conference. While you may think my wardrobe ostentatious, Irene, I promise you it is nothing in comparison to that of higher-born royal dragons.”

She nodded, swallowing down her surprise and guilt at that admission. He didn’t look hurt by her teasing, didn’t look angry. He was just sharing this with her, wanting her to understand. “I can’t say that I’ve ever appreciated any difference between your appearance or style of dress and that of dragons of higher status. Well, except to say that I strongly favor yours.”

He flushed a bit deeper than before and dipped his head in acknowledgement, almost a bow. “I’m flattered, Irene. I appreciate your saying that.”

“I mean it. And of course I will support you in anything you need for your new role.” She couldn’t help noticing that he’d already emptied her wardrobe and that the piles of clothing easily fit on the surface of the bed. It was a sea of -- no, that was far too generous, more like a drainage pool -- of neutrals, save for the occasional brighter color that had been acquired for specific events. That realization sent a wave of uncertainty through her, heightened by the sense of vulnerability she’d been feeling all day. “Does that extend to my wardrobe as well? Will I be -- an embarrassment to you if I continue dressing as I always have?”

“ _Of course not_.” His response was gratifyingly fast and so vehement that she caught a brief flash of red in his eyes. “If _any_ of my kind were to judge you on any facet of your being, I would be embarrassed _of them_. You are perfect as you are, and you’re under no obligation to meet any cultural standards of dragons. Or Fae, I should hope.”

“I am going to remind you that you called me perfect,” said Irene, “the next time you disagree with one of my plans.” In reality, her throat was tight with emotion at the blind faith, at the sheer pride and conviction in his voice. She was certain he hadn’t missed it.

“Feel free,” said Kai. He resumed neatly and efficiently folding her clothes into a box. “Though for the record, if you ever did want to change your wardrobe, I’d support that as well.”

“I don’t know.” She sighed. “I’ll admit, it feels like one subject after another where I’m discovering I lack experience or attributes needed for this job.”

“Irene.” There were only a couple of dresses left on the bed, and he made quick work of them before moving over to crouch beside her where she sat on the floor. “I have absolutely no doubt in your ability to fulfill the duties of your new role and to do it brilliantly. I cannot think of anyone more uniquely suited to the task.”

She sighed, knowing that she ought to believe him but struggling all the same. “Plenty of people would say other Librarians are far better suited to diplomatic work. Bradamant, for example.” She hated to admit it but she couldn’t deny how at ease, how capable the other woman seemed at every turn of this, while Irene herself continued to struggle.

Kai snorted unceremoniously. “Who says that, aside from Bradamant herself?”

Irene opened her mouth, then closed it again, wrinkling her nose at him. “All right, I see your point. I haven’t actually spoken to any other Librarians aside from Bradamant, and Coppelia, who obviously selected me for this. But I said ‘would’ say, not ‘have’ said.”

Kai shook his head affectionately. “What you’re actually telling me is that it’s your own self-doubt saying it. Oh, don’t give me that look, I’ll be the first to admit that I’ve got my own insecurities. In fact, I do believe it was _you_ trying to convince me that I had the skills to assist in dragon-Fae talks.”

She sighed, swallowing down a wince at the way that had played out. Then again, she hadn’t been wrong, and his uncle’s betrayal didn’t change the legitimacy of his very admirable skills. Surely that had been the reason his father had selected him as representative, in the end. And was _that_ the real reason Coppelia had selected _her_? Because she knew that Irene would have more influence over Kai than another Librarian would? But then, how could she have foreseen Kai’s selection...It was all so much paranoid, circular logic, which Vale would have said wasn’t any sort of logic at all.

“Yes,” she allowed, bringing herself back to the present. “I have very good judgment when it comes to you.”

“You’ve got very good judgment about everything, except sometimes your own value.” He laid a hand on her arm, still crouched effortlessly in a position that would have had most humans stiff and trembling with exhaustion by now. “To wit: Does Bradamant have your knowledge of dragon social structure and politics?”

“No,” she admitted. She couldn’t decide whether she wanted him to prove her wrong or not. “At least, I don’t think so.”

“There’s no way she could,” Kai said dismissively. “Which brings me to my next point: Does Bradamant have a dragon lover? Or contacts with several powerful Fae? Does she have a best friend with some fraction of Fae blood in his family tree?” He said that last without even a hint of judgment or disapproval, she couldn’t help noticing.

“No,” she said a bit more firmly. “Probably not.”

“ _Definitely not_.” There was a hint of fire in his eyes again. “No other Librarian does. Not even a senior. My father would be aware of any who did. Which brings me back to my original point: _You_ are uniquely qualified, despite your propensity for self-doubt.”

She didn’t miss the deeper implications in that statement: both that his father had a significant amount of information about the Library, and that they had discussed her in particular. He was trying to be honest and to reassure her, though. She owed it to him not to get lost in paranoia. “All right. I -- will endeavor to remember that.”

“Good.” He rose and offered his hands to her.

There were still a few books left to pack, but they were on the higher shelves and didn’t require her to be on the floor. “Thank you,” she said as he pulled her to her feet.

Kai nodded, then kissed her forehead, lips warm against her skin. “I still have my own doubts, you know. About my own ability to do this.”

“I know.” It had only been a couple of days since he’d first confessed to her how afraid he was of disappointing his father and losing everything. Moving house must be making this feel more real to him as well. “I haven’t forgotten that I promised we’ll figure it out together.”

“Good, because I wasn’t about to let you.” He kissed her temple, then gestured to the empty wardrobe. “So. What’s next?”

“The dresser,” she decided, because it was next on her mental list of major bedroom areas to pack.

Kai nodded and squeezed her hands before moving off in that direction. Irene managed to box precisely two more books from the shelf before it occurred to her that she’d just sent him off to pack her undergarments along with several other categories of decidedly private things.

“Actually --” She turned around in time to see that he’d already discovered her underwear drawer, because of course he had. To be completely fair, it was the top drawer, but still...couldn’t he have somehow started with socks? Or even with the drawer of costume pieces she kept on hand for quick disguises. But no. Underwear it was.

“Yes?” He looked at her over his shoulder, expression a mix of coy flirtatiousness and calm reassurance. He was clearly trying to act as if it were any other sort of item she’d asked him to pack, but most definitely not succeeding. There was no missing the color that had risen in his cheeks again, or the way his eyes were a bit dilated and sparkling.

Irene sighed. “Fine. I was going to say I’d come help with the dresser, but you have fun with that drawer.”

“Oh, _do_ feel free to help,” said Kai, holding up a couple of the more anachronistic pairs of underwear she kept in this alternate. “Particularly if you wanted to, say, demonstrate how these are worn.”

She crossed the room and swatted his hand lightly, unable to deny the appeal of that suggestion. But this was not the time. “Perhaps I will someday. If you stop being cheeky and help me get this done.”

He pouted theatrically and pointed to the box he’d begun filling. “I do believe I’m being _very_ helpful, Madam Winters.”

“Fine,” she sighed again. It wasn’t as though she could prevent him from seeing that drawer now. Nor was it as though he hadn’t seen her in -- and out of -- her underthings. Eventually, she supposed, he would get to see her 'demonstrating' all of them and then some, particularly if they were going to be sharing a room. She gestured to the left column of drawers, where he’d already been working. “You finish that side, I’ll do this side.”

Kai hesitated, though, turning serious. “Irene. If there’s anything that you’d actually like to keep private, just let me know, all right? None of this means that you’re obligated to share absolutely everything with me.”

 _And what are you hiding from me, then?_ came the familiar voice of her paranoia. It wanted to insist that this was a warning, a portent of the secret reasons he must have that would ultimately prove all of this too good to be true. It wanted her to put up as many of her own defenses as she could still salvage, to interrogate him, or possibly just run. But no. She was _not_ going to do that. For one thing, it would be terribly unfair to him. For another, she was _finished_ getting in the way of her own happiness. And so far, none of his secrets had turned out to ruin their relationship, though she’d certainly done her self-sabotaging best to help them along.

“I appreciate that,” she said firmly, “and I’ll bear it in mind. But there’s nothing here I want to keep from you. Especially seeing as how we’ll be living in rather closer quarters soon.”

He smiled at that and dipped his head again in that motion that wasn’t quite a bow. He also didn’t comment any further, the perfect gentleman as he packed the rest of her undergarments every bit as neatly as he had all her other articles of clothing.

As it turned out, she was the one who ended up with the socks, then a drawer of little-used makeup and hair styling tools. She wondered whether she would be expected to make more use of these things in her new role as a politician. Well, the makeup, anyway. It wasn’t as though she currently had much hair to style.

The last drawer on her side was only half full, but she was immediately grateful that it had ended up one that she was packing. These things were keepsakes, the sort of sentimental items she’d never kept outside of her rooms in the Library before. She’d moved them here after Alberich had nearly managed to destroy that other home and had just about forgotten until now.

There was a pile of letters and cards, mostly correspondence with acquaintances from school, none of it recent. Some postcards from her parents, as well as various trinkets they’d brought her from assorted alternates they’d visited. Most of those weren’t recent either. Strange how adulthood seemed to usher in distance...or perhaps it was something more. Something related to the things Melusine had read from her record and --

\-- and she was _not_ going there right now.

“Someone important?” asked Kai, breaking her reverie.

Irene looked down at her own hand and realized that she’d frozen in memory with a locket in her palm, open to reveal the face of a young woman. That sent a fresh tug of longing through her -- and strange how she hadn’t even realized what she’d been holding at first.

She took a breath. “Back when we first met, you told me that there’d been a girl in the alternate where you lived before the Library?” She held up the locket, letting him look closer for a moment. “This was mine, at school.”

“Oh,” he murmured, the empathy in his eyes telling her that he understood the relationship wasn’t anywhere near current. She could see his inner struggle as he tried to decide whether to offer words of sympathy, then apparently rejected the idea. “And -- ah -- pardon me if this is out of line, but is there a specific meaning behind all of the sun imagery?”

Irene caught her breath again as she realized what he was seeing. Nearly all of the souvenirs from her parents bore some form of a sun, as did all of the postcards. It had been their idea of a clever joke, or a semi-secret message. Still was -- or would have been, if they’d sent anything recently.

“They’re from my parents,” she said carefully. She could leave it at that, and she knew Kai would get the message and stop prying. Or she could make up a plausible, harmless lie and he would accept that as well. But for the first time in her life, she found that she didn’t want to. She’d already entrusted Kai with so much. Why not this as well? “Because -- Because my birth name is Ray. It’s their idea of a joke.”

His eyes widened, an expression that was something like wonder washing over his face as the magnitude of what she’d just said sunk in. Clearly Vale hadn't shared this knowledge, not that she’d expected he would have. He took her right hand again and kissed it reverently. “You have my word that I’ll keep it safe.”

She had no doubt that he would.


	7. Chapter 7

The new house -- though it was difficult to imagine it as a home, or anything other than a next assignment -- was a flurry of activity when they arrived. 

Irene was still on edge, partly due to the novelty of the situation, the overwhelming sense of responsibility, and partly because she was waiting for Bradamant to set her up for failure and embarrassment. True, she hadn’t done that in Paris, but there was so much more time and opportunity now. Besides which, Bradamant hadn’t been with the vehicles she had commissioned, which certainly added to the suspense.

There was also the fact that they had sent the vehicles with the boxes on ahead and then taken a cab separately, nearly half an hour behind. That had been intended to allow Irene time to undo some of the more enduring wards she’d put on the house, along with a few other security features that wouldn’t be appreciated by the next inhabitants. In truth, she was feeling a surprisingly strong sense of grief over leaving their old lodgings behind, as though that act further cemented the abrupt ending of that particular chapter of her life. No, _their_ lives. She had been feeling undeniably lost for the past several weeks, and knew on a rational level that it would be a relief to establish a new routine. But that knowledge failed to mollify the part of her that just wanted things back the way they had been before.

Kai was tense beside her in the cab, though the sensation of his shoulder pressed against hers was still a comfort. He kept hold of her hand for an extra long moment after helping her down in front of their new lodgings and she couldn’t decide whether the knowledge that he was as anxious as she was came as a relief or not. Regardless, she reminded herself, they were doing this together. She was _not_ going to take any insecurities out on him this time.

The door was standing open again, and Irene felt a surge of deja vu. There was no question as to why this time, though: a steady flow of boxes, furniture, and other moving-related materials were being carried in and out of the place. Irene found herself grateful that she’d been paranoid enough to keep the few things she considered valuables in the one bag she carried with her now, though nothing overtly unseemly appeared to be happening.

“At least Silver isn’t here this time,” Kai muttered as they made their way inside.

“Actually --” Bradamant’s smooth voice made Irene jump as she broke off from a conversation with one of the workmen and turned to face them. “Oh, I’m sorry, did I startle you?”

Irene squared her shoulders and set her jaw. “Certainly not.”

Bradamant smiled thinly. “Oh good, because there’s something you need to see right away.”

Exchanging a wary glance with Kai, Irene followed her to the doorway of the recently-designated dining room -- and froze. There, in front of the obscenely long table, was an intricately carved life-sized statue of a very naked man in a very...well, artistic pose. Except it wasn’t just any man, wasn’t some anonymous model. It was unmistakably a likeness of Silver himself, and Irene was willing to bet it was anatomically accurate, too.

“Absolutely _not_ ,” Kai growled.

“A gift,” said Bradamant, “from one ambassador to another. At least, according to the card. I have to assume he’s referring to his existing position at the Liechtenstein embassy since he never submitted any sort of formal application relating to the treaty.”

“Hang it from a zeppelin and drop it on his head,” said Kai.

Bradamant pursed her lips and Irene could see irritation in her eyes at the fact that she couldn’t use her preferred sharp retort because he was no longer a Library apprentice. He had to be treated with the respect owed a foreign dignitary now. “Well...of course it isn’t my decision to make, but --”

“We aren’t murdering Silver with his own likeness,” Irene interrupted, because it was at least half her decision. Besides which, she knew Kai would follow her lead on this, not that his threat had ever been literal. Probably. “Much as we might want to.”

Kai pouted demonstratively, which confirmed that he wasn’t being serious. He made genuine death threats with absolutely frigid formality. Bradamant didn’t have the benefit of knowing that, of course. “But it would fit his archetype _so_ very well.”

“Oh, true,” Irene said sweetly, smiling at him and watching Bradamant flinch in her peripheral vision.

Kai let the tension build for another artful moment before he shrugged, dropping the murderous act though not the sincere disgust. He waved at the statue with an air of aristocratic dismissiveness that constantly managed to surprise Irene even now. “Can you at least cover it with a sheet or something?”

For a moment Bradamant looked as though she might object to being spoken to that way, but then she nodded. “I’ll have one of the staff take care of it in a moment.”

“You’ve hired staff already?” asked Irene, prepared to admit that she was impressed by the speed with which Bradamant was working. They were supposed to be cooperating, after all. It felt like the least she could do.”

“Yes, of course,” said Bradamant. “ _I’ve_ been working round the clock on this. Unlike you, apparently. What _have_ you been up to, Irene?”

“Recovering,” Kai said sharply, before she could respond. “From nearly _dying_ to save all of our lives. Surely you haven’t forgotten that so soon.”

“Ah yes,” Bradamant said coolly. “I am extremely familiar with Irene’s penchant for heroics. And dramatics, for that matter. One might even say she’s getting to be a regular martyr.”

“Careful,” said Kai, his eyes flashing with fire and his tone lacking any modicum of warmth now, “how you speak to my colleague.”

“Oh,” Bradamant purred. “Is that the label you’re using now? Colleagues?”

“It’s accurate, Madam Bradamant,” said Kai. His jaw was tight, every tiny movement even more precise than usual, as though his very being existed on a knife’s edge. “So yes, that _is_ the term to use. And furthermore, you need to _treat_ her with the respect owed an ambassador, which she is. I don’t imagine it would reflect well upon the Library should word get round that undue pressure was being exerted on its own representative. I know my father, for one, would not consider such actions to be in good faith with regards to the treaty.”

Bradamant arched an eyebrow, but she’d paled, just barely perceptibly. “Is that a threat?”

“Consider it friendly advice.” Kai shrugged, though every bit of his bearing remained absolutely deadly. “Though if it were a threat, it would be well-deserved.”

Irene swallowed down the peculiar mix of rage, apprehension, and elation she always seemed to feel when he came to her defense like this. She had to de-escalate this interaction before it went entirely off the rails. She trusted Kai, of course, but she also knew his draconic temper -- and she hadn’t forgotten what he’d said about protection, either.

“Thank you, Kai,” she said in her calmest, most pleasant tone. She was rather proud of it, in fact. “But I’m certain Bradamant didn’t mean anything negative toward me. She’s far too professional for that.”

Kai huffed a breath that wasn’t quite a snort and smiled absolutely viciously, bringing to mind the many sharp teeth he had in his proper form. “Of course.”

“In fact,” said Irene, “I was about to give her my compliments on how efficiently she’s preparing this house for Embassy business.” She felt absolutely no charitable impulses toward Bradamant anymore, but the compliment was strategic. It forced her into the position of having to back down or else look unreasonably argumentative.

Bradamant stared Irene down for a long moment, making it clear that she was aware of the manipulation and resented it. But it was also a concession: she recognized that she had to do what Irene wanted, for the moment. 

“Right,” she said at last, her voice perfectly smooth again and almost professional, though with an undercurrent of threat. “Well, as you said, I have done quite a bit to prepare the house. There’s basic furniture in each of the rooms, though of course more can be procured according to your preferences.”

“I’ll most likely be ordering some custom pieces,” said Kai, and Irene couldn’t tell whether he was being genuine or continuing to test Bradamant’s limits.

She took a measured breath. “Your business is up to you, of course. Well, and your father, it would appear. Irene, I’ve instructed the workers to deliver your possessions to the space you selected down here. You’ll find that the furniture is a touch on the small side, given the ah...meager space.” She sounded absolutely thrilled by the limitation.

“Oh,” said Irene, suddenly equally pleased by the direction this conversation was taking. “Well, I appreciate that, of course, but there’s been a change in plans.”

Bradamant crossed her arms. “And what would that be?”

“I’ll be taking the other bedroom on the second floor.” She was impressed with herself for how casually she managed to say it, though she was absolutely certain about all of the things Bradamant would assume. “I apologize for not updating you sooner, but I had neither time nor opportunity to do so.” She smiled nastily.

Bradamant looked back and forth between Irene and Kai, her eyes calculating as they settled on him. “I assume you have already agreed to this. I am curious about your father’s approval, however. What does he think of you cohabitating with a human? And one with Irene’s...colorful record?”

“My lord father’s opinions are none of your business,” Kai said coldly. “All you need to know is that _I_ have full authority needed for my role here. And Irene does not require anyone’s permission to occupy her own bedroom in the house we have agreed to share with the Fae representative.”

Bradamant’s smile turned smug as she clearly realized that she’d succeeded in provoking an emotional reaction even if no one had said anything outright regrettable. “Well. I’ll have your possessions redirected, then. There’s furniture in the other room as well. And now, Irene, I need to borrow you on some Library business.”

She sensed Kai tensing without even looking at him. He had to still be feeling defensive with the way Bradamant had been prodding all of both their most sensitive spots. And she had just reminded him of his exclusion from the Library, the sorest spot of all after the past few weeks. But she also knew that this particular boundary was important to preserve, at least in appearance. If this was going to work -- if _they_ were going to work together at the Embassy -- then they couldn’t put personal feelings ahead of impartiality in situations like this. Even if it was only a ploy on Bradamant’s part, they couldn’t take the risk. Neither one of them could afford to appear biased right now, especially when things were still getting established.

“Of course,” she told Bradamant. The calm detachment in her voice was feigned, but that was all right. They were all posturing and that was part of the game. She glanced at Kai, feeling a wave of anxiety. She trusted him absolutely, but she also knew how possessive he could be, and what that meant to him. And she knew how much he’d been through, as well as how much she’d give to spare him further hurt.

He met her eyes and nodded, though, steadier than she’d expected. “By all means. I believe I’ll go and supervise the unloading of our things.”

* * *

“Presumably at some point you’ll be telling me what this ‘business’ that requires a private audience is?”

Bradamant was leading Irene down the stairs to the basement level for reasons as yet undisclosed. Had the house not been so full of potential witnesses -- and had there not been so many other recent opportunities -- she might have had some amount of concern that she was being led to her death. As it was, the eternally paranoid part of her brain was still insisting that this was a trap, probably with some form of humiliation as the catch. She might have a penchant for investigating potential traps in the context of an assignment or some other crisis, but she had absolutely no interest in subjecting herself to political or personal ones.

“Presumably,” Bradamant echoed.

Irene paused halfway down the stairs. “Now, please.”

Bradamant laughed in a way that was almost coy, but with an unmistakable undercurrent of nastiness. “Always so suspicious. I mean, I suppose you have your reasons, given all the times you’ve embarrassed yourself. In any case, I’ll do as you wish: I need you to walk the premises with me to discuss security measures. Seeing as how I’ll be responsible for having those arranged as well.”

“Ah, of course.” Irene mirrored her mirthless smile as they began moving again. She might feel that Bradamant was always ahead of her in this game, but Irene reminded herself that _she_ felt the opposite based on what she’d said in Paris. Irene could play it well too. “I am curious, though --- how is this business exclusive to the Library? Security for the Embassy is a concern for all representatives.”

Bradamant snorted unceremoniously. “Ah, right. Well, hang on then while I go feth Lord Silver. Oh wait. He isn’t the official Fae representative. Yet, in any case.”

Irene sighed. “All right, I concede your point: we can’t involve all representatives because we don’t _have_ all representatives. But why not at least involve Kai? Unless, of course, you were testing my willingness to exclude him.” They were solidly in the basement now, moving past the kitchen and the housekeeper’s rooms into a large open storage space. She tried not to think of the wine cellar where she’d first encountered the Countess. At least there were no cats here.

Bradamant scoffed again. “Irene. Always assuming everything is about you and your fragile personal feelings. It has nothing to do with your or Prince Kai. The Library is creating the Embassy and continuing to act as something of a mediator between the dragons and the Fae. Oh, sure, the treaty is ostensibly for that too, but do you really think it’s going to succeed? Best case, it creates a temporary peace for a few months or years. When it inevitably falls apart, where does that leave you? Where does it leave the Library? If you’re smart, the answer will be: with at least a few built-in safeguards of which they have no knowledge.”

Irene froze, allowing Bradamant to get a few paces ahead of her before she managed to get moving again. So far they hadn’t discussed a single relevant security feature, which would only have been surprising if she had failed to suspect Bradamant of having ulterior motives. As it was, she was beginning to suspect that the true purpose had been to lead her to the part of the house where she’d feel most vulnerable in order to exert influence with this conversation. “Careful, Bradamant. You’re sounding an awful lot like Prutkov, and you saw how things turned out for him, I’m sure.”

“Oh, no, you misunderstand,” said Bradamant. “There’s a crucial difference between me and Prutkov. He’s an idealist, though a stupid and misguided one. I’m a realist, Irene. I’m not suggesting that you _do_ anything to cause the treaty to fail. Merely that you take steps to protect yourself when it inevitably does.”

“Yet taking such steps as you’re suggesting would be in bad faith and a violation of the shared trust upon which the treaty depends,” she pointed out. “The purpose of the Embassy was for the three representatives to work together as equals. To be transparent with one another and with the rest of the worlds.” The perpetually paranoid voice in the back of her mind was piping up again, suggesting that this conversation might be delivered directly from her superiors, that they might expect her to take these steps regardless of the implications. Was she being a fool to reject the idea? Then again, Coppelia had chosen _her_ as the Library representative. Coppelia, who’d had ample opportunity to deliver this message herself but hadn’t done so. She would continue to trust her instincts here until someone other than Bradamant gave her a compelling reason not to.

“Oh, _Irene_!” She looked cruelly amused now. “Always so naive, so morally conscious. Or is it just so very compromised?”

Irene paused again and crossed her arms, waiting this time until the other woman stopped and turned back to face her. “What does fulfilling my assignment -- given to me by the Library -- have to do with being biased?”

Bradamant’s expression said that was exactly the question she wanted to be asked, exactly the reaction she’d been hoping to provoke. “Well. Let’s just say that if someone from outside the Library had very recently been assigned to seduce _me_ for information and influence, I wouldn’t be concerning myself with acting honestly or in good faith toward him. And I _certainly_ wouldn’t be making him my lover.”

Irene set her jaw. “I have no idea what any of that nonsense has to do with me or the treaty, since it shares no resemblance with any actual events.”

“Fine,” said Bradamant sniffily. “Do as you insist. It’s your responsibility and your liability, after all. Just don’t forget that I tried to warn you. Or that I’ve got plenty of personal experience with how _terrible_ your judgment becomes the moment someone attractive pays you the slightest bit of attention. I really did think you might have learned that from me before but, well.” She shrugged. “We’ve all got our limitations, I suppose.”

* * *

The remainder of the afternoon and evening had come and gone in a blur by the time Irene found herself in her room with anything resembling privacy. There had been several hours of _actual_ security considerations, some of which she had shared with Bradamant and some of which she’d kept to herself -- though she absolutely _would_ be informing Kai. Then there had been genuine Library business in the form of far too much paperwork and other reports. For his part, Kai had been occupied dealing with Silver’s gifts: in addition to the statue, she gathered there had been multiple other surprises, though she hadn’t gotten an opportunity to learn the details yet. Then Li Ming had arrived with two other dragons he’d introduced as Ao Guang’s servants. They had stayed through dinner and been polite enough, though it was clear their only real interest was in talking to Kai about various political matters in hushed tones and vague terms. 

She didn’t think that anything disastrous had happened, and that should have felt like a victory, given all of the circumstances. Still, she found herself with a tension headache, a feeling of anxious unease crawling under her skin like maggots. She also felt a completely irrational sense of annoyance at the fact that the furniture in this room had clearly been selected according to Bradamant’s taste, including the linens that were on the bed. She wasn’t certain what she had been expecting, and probably she should have been grateful not to find herself with a bed full of infested rags or otherwise booby trapped. But still, the whole thing left her with a sense of being in a hotel that was a bit too fancy for her sensibilities -- not unlike Paris -- as well as the peculiar ache of homesickness. She didn’t typically long to be living anywhere other than where she currently was, probably because she didn’t generally have the opportunity to become emotionally attached to any lodgings. 

She’d just managed to change into night clothes when she recognized Kai’s knock at the door: precise and controlled, but backed by an undeniable energy, just as he was. Irene had a moment of paranoia in which she imagined an entire entourage of dragons at her bedroom door and resolved to have some sort of a peephole installed. It was just Kai on his own, though, in a dressing gown she had never seen before and looking startlingly young with his long hair piled into a messy bun. She stepped back to let him enter, which he did before speaking. 

“Well, that was -- somewhat less ideal of a homecoming than I had hoped or expected.” He closed the door behind him and locked it demonstratively. She couldn’t tell which of them he was trying to reassure.

Irene arched an eyebrow. “Did you expect that this would be less -- well, chaotic, for lack of a better term?” It was possible that he still remained somewhat idealistic.

He opened his mouth, closed it again, then blew out a breath. “Well, you may think me naive but I did not expect that statue.” His lip curled in disgust as he said the word, like it was an obscenity. “Or the several canvases of frankly pornographic art. It isn’t just the subject matter, Irene. It isn’t as though it’s _artistic_ nudity. The proportions are wrong and there’s no _technique_.”

“Let me guess,” said Irene, trying not to smile at the edge of an outright wail in his voice, “women with obscenely large bosoms and impossibly small waists? How very Silver.”

“Men with similarly distorted...anatomy as well.”

“Well, isn’t that refreshing,” she said dryly.

Kai blinked at her, looking a mix of amused and betrayed. “Irene. There is an entire _room_ up on the level meant for the Fae representative wallpapered in what appears to be a not-very-abstract pattern of unclothed women’s breasts.”

Irene sighed. “At least he didn’t do that to our rooms, I suppose.”

Kai didn’t even pause in his litany of distress. “Nor did I expect Li Ming or any of my lord father’s people this soon, with an extensive list of contacts they want me to begin grooming immediately.”

“Feeling overwhelmed?” she broke in before he could continue working himself up.

He looked taken aback, as though he hadn’t even considered that question for himself. “I -- yes.”

“Good,” said Irene, surprising herself. “So am I. So at least we’ve got company.”

Kai blinked, took her in for another silent moment, then crossed the room and hugged her. She leaned into the solid warmth of him immediately, wrapping her arms around his waist. He rested his chin on the top of her head, both hands stroking up and down her back. She could feel the slightest hint of a tremor running through him as he exhaled some of the tension. Irene felt a surge of affection for and protectiveness toward him as her own exhaustion and irritation faded into the background. He had looked good with the other dragons -- mature, professional. But she also knew from experience that those kinds of interactions were taxing, particularly in this sort of context, when there would be a direct report back to his father.

“Come sit.” She took his hand and led him to the edge of the bed before he could respond, though his body language told her that was exactly what he wanted.

He followed her easily, sitting on the edge of the mattress beside her. He didn’t stop there, though, instead kicking off the blue satin slippers he’d been wearing and hooking an arm around her shoulders to bring her with him as he sank back against the pillows. Irene tensed for a moment instinctively, not because she didn’t trust him -- though it did strike her on some level that she wouldn’t allow anyone else to touch her this way -- but because it felt dangerous, felt like a liability to be doing anything so intimate in a house that currently seemed anything but.

“It isn’t too good to be true,” Kai murmured against her ear, then met her gaze levelly when she looked at him in surprise. “You told me to remind you when you needed it. We’re here, and we’re together, and it’s not too good to be true. It’s just _true_ ”

“Kai,” she whispered, voice abruptly rough with emotion. How often, before they’d met, had a part of her longed to be known like this? To have support not only in her work, against whatever foe she might currently be facing, but against her own insecurities as well? And -- well, not _now_. He’d been doing it for months. The only new thing was her trying to see it without paranoia, to accept it without guilt. She touched his cheek very gently. “Thank you.”

He turned his head and kissed her fingertips, then wrapped his other arm around her as she relaxed more fully against him. “I’d say the same to you.”

She shifted to rest her head against his shoulder, the skin of his neck warm where her forehead brushed it. In fact, she could feel the heat of him everywhere the lengths of their bodies were pressed together, even through their various layers of clothing. “I do believe that you just did.”

She could hear the smile in his voice when he spoke. “So I did.” He was quiet for a long moment, combing his fingers through her hair, before he spoke again. “What did Bradamant want? If you can tell me, of course.”

“She wanted to talk about security,” said Irene, noting but not explicitly acknowledging the insecurity in his voice on that last. “And how I should keep certain features to myself as a tactical advantage. Which is why I’ll be sharing them all with you, of course. And keeping most of them from her.”

“Such as?” His tone was nothing other than mildly interested, but Irene felt the unmistakable shift of tension in his body.

“Such as the property next door is available for rent,” said Irene. “I’m going to acquire it using personal funds and see about connecting the two for an emergency entrance or exit.”

“An excellent consideration.” He sounded suitably impressed, but his next breath was the slightest bit unsteady. “Irene -- I hate to ask, but --”

“But do I think that the Library ordered her to have me keep you in the dark?” she interrupted, anticipating the end of his thought. She waited for his nod before continuing. “I had considered that, and I don’t think so. For one thing, Coppelia selected me as Library representative, and she was the one who assigned us together in the first place. She clearly intended for us to trust one another. And for another, the whole concept of backstabbing allies is much more Bradamant’s personal style than the Library’s as a whole.”

“True,” said Kai, but his tone betrayed the fact that he wasn’t fully convinced. “But has it occurred to you that Coppelia doesn’t speak for the Library as a whole, and that others may share Bradamant’s approach?”

“Well, yes, there are of course always politics.” She didn’t like to think about then, though, even if she supposed she was now technically a politician. “But that’s true on all sides, isn’t it? I’m sure there are plenty of dragons who’d prefer _you_ keep secrets from _me_.”

“Oh, there are,” he said darkly, and she realized belatedly that she’d hit a very understandable sore spot.

She found his hand and squeezed it apologetically. “Do you trust me, Kai?”

“With my life,” he said immediately, vehemently.

“Then we trust each other,” said Irene, swallowing down the memory of what Bradamant had thought of her judgment. She was _not_ wrong about this. “And that’s what matters, at the end of the day.” Perhaps if she said it aloud enough times, she’d be able to make herself believe it.

“It _is_ the end of the day,” said Kai, sounding glad to change the subject. “May I stay with you tonight?”

“I thought that was a given.” She found she’d already managed to make peace with the idea.

“Excellent.” He relaxed again, the amount of change in his posture -- even lying down -- telling her how vulnerable he was feeling, how badly he needed this reassurance.

She rolled onto her side and laid an arm around his waist, pressing a kiss to his jaw. “What did you decide to do with Silver’s gifts?”

“The statue is going to a local museum,” said Kai, a smirk in his voice, “that’s got an exhibit on Liechtenstein’s history. The paintings -- I don’t know, I might just burn them.”

“Well, let me know when you do,” said Irene. “We can toast marshmallows or something.”

He laughed warmly, his whole body shaking with it against hers, and for the first time the place began to feel a bit like home.

**Author's Note:**

> Comments make my week! If you're enjoying this, please let me know.


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